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— OF — 



— "I (here) retrace 
(As in a map the voyager his course) 
The windings of my way through many years." 




1020 Arch Street. 
1884. . 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1SS3, by Henry C. Hallo- 
well and Caroline H. Miller, in the office of the Librarian 
of Congress, Washington, D. C. 




In the following account of my life, which I began 
in the early part of last month, and have finished as far 
as I am capable this morning, I wish all who may read 
it, to endeavor to put themselves in sympathy with me 
as I then was, to whom the events and incidents re- 
lated have all been a sober and sometimes a painful 
reality, and to understand that, to the very best of my 
knowledge and belief, it is a true picture of me and of 
my then condition ; that they therefore may study it as 
representing the environments that have evolved my 
character, and the " me " that makes this record. 

I wish it understood, also, that it is written only from 
the impressions that remain, so that, in relating a con- 
versation, where there are no quotation marks, what is 
given is just the impression upon my memory; but 
where quotation marks are placed, some or all the 
words were used by the person as there given, 

Benjamin Hallowell. 

Rockland, 2d mo. 26th, 1875. 



Parentage and birth — Family separated — Lives with his grand- 
father — First recollections — Goes to school — First mathe- 
matical reasoning — Notices the stars — Death of his brother 
Joseph — Feeble health — ; Anxiety of his mother for his 
education — Aversion to school — Anecdote of hiding his 
hat — First experience in teaching — Visit to Philadelphia 
— Hearing the watchman "cry the hour" — Attending 
market — Anecdote of the cow. Page 1. 

1811 — Age, 12. 

Death of his grandfather — Assists his mother — Anecdotes of 
early times, related by his grandfather — Family again sep- 
arated—Uncertainty as to his future — Goes to live with his 
uncle Comly Shoemaker — Quickness at calculations — Be- 
gins the study of geometry — Solves the problem of "The 
Three Steeples" — Constructs a quadrant — Lesson learned 
from an accidental picture — Sorrow at the sudden death of 
a schoolmate — Alarmed by a soldier — Love of nature — 
Raccoon supper — Childish faith — Conscientiousness — No 
Young Companions. Page 11. 



1814— Age 15. 

Desires to learn a trade — Goes to Nathan Lnkens's to learn 
carpentering and cabinet-niaking — First impressions dis- 
couraging — Finds himself useful and is reconciled — 
Fieased with the business — Articles made by himself — 
Reflections — First chemical experiment — Fall from ladder 
and consequent suffering — Old colored woman's advice 
— Anecdote of colored clergyman — Unable to continue 
his trade — At his uncle Conily's — Concludes to qualify 
himself for a teacher — Goes to the village school — Solves 
difficult problem in geometry — 1817, goes to John Gum- 
mere's — Enraptured with chemical experiments — Delight- 
ful experiences at Burlington — Favorite sermon by George 
Dillwyn — Leaves Burlington. Page 27. 


Takes the Westfield school — Pleasant winter — Efforts to improve 
his handwriting — Applies for position of teacher at Fair 
Hill Boarding School — Meets school commissioners in Balti- 
more — Receives the appointment — Difficulties of journey 
to Fair Hill — Attends Sandy Spring meeting for first time 
— Duties and responsibilities — Lonely walks and poetical 
address to the Cedar — Death of Anna Thomas — Meets 
Margaret E. Farquhar for the first time — Reminiscences 
of Samuel Thomas — Sickness of Samuel Thomas — Goes 
home on a visit — Sad experiences — Death of his brother 
James — His sister Mary returns with him to Fair Hill — 
Death of Samuel Thomas — Trying times for the school — 
Debonh Stabler' s assistance — Mournful thoughts — Poem. 

Page 4L 





The wren's nest — Books read at Fair Hill — Resignation as 
teacher — Return to Pleasant Yalley — Anecdote of Fair 
Hill — Visit to John Gummere, where congenial occupation 
is found — Applies for situation at Westtown and is ac- 
cepted — Visit to relatives — Reflections — Introduced to 
future scholars — A stroke of diplomacy — Successful man- 
agement of unruly student — Anecdote of the key — Read- 
ing Addison's Spectator — A small legacy and the use made 
of it. Page 60. 


First lecture at Westtown — Two requests granted — "The 
Circle" — Conundrum — Grammatical discussions — Social 
Suppers — Extending his mathematical knowledge — Accu- 
mulating works on mathematics — Revising Bonnycastle's 
Mensuration and preparing a key to it — School committee 
very accommodating — Boys' parlor established and matron 
appointed — Offers his library for use of the boys — Begins 
to study French and Botany — Conscientious scruples — His 
sister Mary enters on duty as teacher at Westtown — Plans 
to leave Westtown — Resignation regretfully accepted — 
Three happy and profitable years. Page 77. 


Preparations for opening school in Alexandria — Difficulties in 
getting a house — Kindness of friends — Marriage — La Fay- 
ette — School fills slowly — Lectures — Confidence of ultimate 



success — Unhealthy location — Change of residence — Tem- 
porary financial anxieties — Girls' school — Private lessons — 
Prospects brighten — A benevolent society — Mathematical 
correspondence. Page 95. 


Death of his valued friend Edward Stabler — Eclipse of the Sun 
— Family bereavement — Northern tour — "Celestial phe- 
nomena " — Surveying — Calculating an almanac — Eevising 
Blair's Philosophy — Cholera — Meteoric shower — A move 
which begins in difficulty but ends well. Page 110. 



Scientific use of cannon balls — Touching the right spring — 
Increase of school — Heavy responsibility — A Lyceum es- 
tablished — Wearing cases — Need of rest — Giving up the 
school. Page 123. 


Removal to the country — Fanning — Lecturing — Minor trials 
— ' 1 Aunt Kittie' s ' ' sermon — Practical mathematics — Ac- 
cepts a professorship — Chemical investigations. 

Page 130. 



Call to Philadelphia — Mental conflict — Lecxure class — Pleasant 



friends — "Berzelius" — Lectures on Geology — Visitors 
from home — Interesting excursions — A profitable mistake 
— Dr. Bartram's inscription — Philosophical ideas on the art 
of writing — Farewell to Philadelphia and return home — 
Pleasant occupations and resources Page 140. 


Interrupted plans ^-Resumes the charge of the Alexandria 
boarding-school — A well-spent vacation — Fitting up a 
laboratory — Lectures at Smithsonian Institute — Pleasant 
prospects interrupted by failing health — Disposes of his 
school property — Favorite ideas on education — Consulted 
in regard to establishing the Agricultural College — Elected 
President — Enters upon duty in 1859 — Arduous duties — 
Health breaks down — Resigns the presidency — Successful 
experiments at the college. Page 154. 



Return to Alexandria — Trip to Canada — Finally removes to 
Rockland — Journey to the west — Indian affairs — Visiting 
tribes in Nebraska — Literary work — Reflections. 

Page 167. 


Effects of inhaling Nitrous Oxide — A mysterious package — 
" Citizen Granville" — Story of a ten-dollar note — Exper- 
iences with an original character — An incident of travel — 
Visit to a Normal School — Verses for a May-day picnic — 
Management of domestics. Page 171. 




Convention of the friends of Education — Difference between 
work and play — Letter on the subject of the Alexandria 
water- works — A kind intention — Closing reflections. 

Page 192. 



Reminiscences of various subjects. 

Introductory note, 209 

Goods seized for militia fines, 210 

Anecdote of a graduate of West Point, 212 

Incidents of the war, 1861 - 1865, ........ 213 

Taking of his horse "Ande," 215 

Interview with a Roman Catholic priest, 219 

Adventure with an Alderney bull, 221 

Lectures, 224 

Extract from a lecture on Canada, 226 

Conclusion of an article on the Science of Common 

Things, from the ''Children's Friend," 228 

Views, experiences, and reminiscences connected with 

education, 230 

Xeeded modification of the laws for a system of free 
schools. Proposed laws and curriculum for a free 

school system, 244 

Favorite Poems, found in his scrap book and among his papers. 

The Book-keeper's Dream. J. W. Eddy 250 

Ode to Disappointment. Henry Kirke White. . . 251 

At Port Royal— 1861. J. G. Whitfier 253 

Milton on his loss of sight. Elizabeth Lloyd. . . 254 

The Closing Scene. T. Buchanan Read 256 

Address to the Sun. Ossian 258 


The Prayer of Agassiz, 259 

How to break a bad habit, 260 

The Indians 261 

Article contributed to the "Baltimore American" to 
show the spirit in which the Society of Friends 

accepted the trust of caring for the Indians, . . . 265 

Letter of H. B. Whipple, Bishop of Minnesota, ... 270 
Religious views, from articles published in 1 1 Friends' 

Intelligencer," 271 

On Prayer : Extract from a letter to a valued corre- 
spondent, 274 

Nothing created in vain, 276 

Reflections on the wisdom, power, and goodness of 

God, • 280 

Quakerism, 306 

"The God-given power to see or receive a truth is 

God's command to impart it," 307 

Friends in Great Britain, 317 

Some thoughts connected with the fundamental prin- 
ciples of Friends, 327 

Reflections in relation to peace and war, 333 

"Whence is evil?" 345 

Some results of reflection and meditation, 348 

Eastern Tale, 361 

Sketch of the latter days of Benjamin Hallowell, . . . 364 
Letters received, 377 





Parentage and birth — Family separated — Lives with his grand- 
father — First recollections — Goes to school — First mathe- 
matical reasoning — Notices the stars — Death of his brother 
Joseph — Feeble health — Anxiety of his mother for his 
education — Aversion to school — Anecdote of hiding his 
hat — First experience in teaching — Visit to Philadelphia 
— Hearing the watchman 1 1 cry the hour ' 1 — Attending 
market — Anecdote of the cow. 

I was born in Cheltenham township, Montgomery- 
county, Pennsylvania, on the 17th of the Eighth month, 
1799, as the records of Abington Monthly Meeting, where I 
had a birthright in the Society of Friends, show. My 
parents were Anthony and Jane Hallo well. My father 
was the oldest son of William and Mary Williams Hallo- 
well. My mother was the daughter of Benjamin and 
Mary Comly Shoemaker. 

My parents had five children, viz. : James S., who was 
about five years my senior, father of Caleb S. and James 
S. Hallo well ; Benjamin, who died young ; Joseph ; Benja- 
min, jr. (myself), and Mary S., now Mary S. Lippincott, 
who has two daughters, Jane S. and Margaret W. 




I was deprived of a father's care when about two and 
a-half years old, and have no recollection of ever being at 
a meal with him. The family was broken up. Joseph 
went to live with his uncle, John Brunrfield, in Columbia, 
Pennsylvania, and my mother and her other three children, 
went home to her father, who had lost his wife some years 
before. He had a farm of over one hundred acres. She 
performed all the housework for the family for many years, 
besides spinning wool for stockings on the big wheel, and 
knitting them, and also spinning flax and tow on the spin- 
ning-wheel, for sheeting, shirting, etc. In addition to this 
she prepared material for blankets, coverlets, and winter 
wear for the men and for herself and daughter. She 
made, also, striped linsey, the colored material of which 
was the result of her own labor, and check for aprons. 

Her father, my grandfather, after whom I was named, 
lived at the north-west corner of the Old York road and 
Chelten avenue, then called Grave-yard lane, inasmuch 
as it led to the burial place, vbout eight miles from Phila- 
delphia, left by my ancestor, Richard Wall, to Friends of 
Cheltenham, for a grave-yard. 

The house in which I was born was on the adjacent 
farm, near that in wnich my uncle Benjamin, who was a 
tanner, lived and died before my memory. Uncle Benja- 
min's house had a fine spring in one corner of the kitchen, 
which spring is the only thing that remains to mark the 
place where I first saw the light. By going up Chelten 
avenue, and turning to the left at the first lane beyond the 
present residence of Robert and Ann Shoemaker, and going 
a few hundred yards to the first hollow, a stream which sup- 
plied the tan-yard with water, will be found crossing the 
road. A short distance up the stream, and a little to the 
right, is the spring which used to discharge its waters into 



the forementioned stream. It is now covered up, and the 
water is used to supply the establishment of John W. 
Thomas (of No. 1022 Chestnut street, Philadelphia), on a 
hill near by, on the same farm that was my uncle Ben- 

The first consciousness that I can recall to memory, was 
sitting on the kitchen step of stone, in a feeling of very 
great discomfort, crying for bread and butter; which I 
think must have been the time of our moving to grand- 
father's, where everything was strange, and all so busy that 
the child did not receive its ordinary attention. This was 
when my sister was about six months old, and I nearly two 
and a half years. I can still recur, vividly, to the then 
existing feeling of distress and discomfort with which I 
commenced my life in a strange place. 

The spring before I was five years old, I com- 
menced going to school at Abington, to my cousin, Nathan 
Shoemaker, afterwards a prominent physician in Philadel- 
phia, his sister Martha, who lived on my way to the 
school, kindly taking charge of me. I had previously 
been taught to spell and read by grandfather. Indeed, I 
do not remember when I could not read, nor do I remen> 
ber any incident connected with learning to read, so early 
and gently did the good old man perform this kind and 
important office. He also taught my little sister to knit 
and spin when she was too small to do much other work. 

When about six years old, I was assisting my brother 
James to carry a bucket of milk to the pigs, one of us 
having hold on each side of the handle, when he said, 
" Thee takes more steps than I do, why does thee not get 
along faster than I ?" The query took hold of my mind, 
and when we had finished what we were then about, I sat 
down on a board that lay across a ditch, then dry, and 



filled with leaves, niy feet in the ditch, my head resting on 
my hand, and my elbow cn my knee, studying out the 
problem. I well remember my feeling of delight, when I 
saw that his steps must be longer than mine, and ran to 
give him the solution. This is the earliest instance of 
mathematical reasoning that I can recall, although, as we 
were much together, and my brother was possessed of a 
very active mind, he was daily doing or saying things cal- 
culated to exercise my reasoning powers, and I have no 
doubt assisted in my intellectual development. 

Wlien I was about seven years old, my uncle Atkinson 
Rose, his wife Rebecca (my mother's sister), and some of 
their children, came in a sleigh from Philadelphia (eight 
miles), to make an evening visit. Sister Mary and I, 
whose invariable custom it was to go to bed before dark, 
(getting our suppers of bread and milk ourselves), were 
allowed on this occasion to stay up to be with our little 
cousins, and when I went out with the older people about 
9 o'clock to get the horses, I saw, for the first time that I 
can remember, the night sky and the stars, which were 
verv bright from the clearness of the atmosphere. I well 
recollect the impression of delight the magnificent spec- 
tacle made upon me. 

In the year 1808 my brother Joseph died. My cousin, 
Richard M. Shoemaker, told me of his death at Abington 
Meeting, which we scholars attended. Mother and her 
brother. Comly Shoemaker, had been at Columbia, where 
he lived with his uncle Brumfield, about a year before, to 
see him. When I returned from school that evening and 
saw the evidences of my dear mother's grief, I felt as if 
further happiness would be unknown. She was expecting 
him home on his first visit, when she received the intelli- 
gence of his death. His uncle, with whom he lived, kept a 



store, and Joseph was weighing some gunpowder from a 
canister the evening before Christmas, when a boy threw 
at another boy a lighted cigar, that fell into it, causing the 
powder to explode, shattering the door and windows, and 
breaking through the floor where he stood, so that he was 
found in the cellar. His face was entirely black from the 
effects of the powder, but he lived till next morning in 
great suffering, and explained to the family how the acci- 
dent occurred. All the reference mother ever made to it 
afterwards was to say, " Poor Joseph," and weep. 

Samuel Mifflin, who lives at Columbia, and married a 
daughter of William and Phebe Wright, of Huntington, 
Pennsylvania, told me within a few years, that he well 
remembered hearing the circumstance spoken of, and could 
point out the place. 

Mother, although so industrious, rising by day-break, 
and many times before day, having the clothes hung out 
on washing-day by sunrise, would on Seventh-days get all 
her work done before dinner. In the afternoon she would 
dress up with a nice clean cap, white apron, and nankeen 
mitts coming up to the elbow (her gown having short 
sleeves), and would look over the farm, garden, orchard, 
etc. After Joseph's death, she would frequently sit down 
by the front window, with her face towards the turnpike, 
and say "Poor Joseph," while the tears would stream 
down her cheeks from the memory of him, and perhaps 
other tendering reminiscences of the past ! It made my 
young heart ache ! 

At that day farmers' children generally drank milk for 
breakfast and supper, which was the invariable rule with 
us, except that on First-day mornings we were each 
favored with a cup of coffee. My health was then feeble, 
and I was affected with a bleeding at the nose almost daily? 



especially if I ran or used any violent exercise, which 
made me weak and pale, so that my mother was told many 
times in my hearing, that she would "never raise that 
child/' which I thought must be a true prophecy. I had 
heart-burn and nausea after my milk breakfast, almost 
every morning, but no excuse would induce my mother to 
let me remain from school. She would sometimes intimate 
unmistakably that the desire to stay from school might 
have something to do with my morning sickness. It hap- 
pened that I was unable to retain my breakfast one First- 
day morning, and I then reminded her that that sickness 
could not be from a desire to remain from school, as there 
w r as no school on that day. Dear woman ! She was very 
earnest and untiring in her efforts to keep me at school, 
in order that I might be a "good scholar/' and I now 
venerate her for it, and see that she had some grounds for 
believing that feigned sickness might be one of the many 
devices I tried to find as excuses for staying at home. 

On one occasion the men were a little short of help and 
wanted me to " rake after the wagon " in hauling hay. 
Delighted, I ran to tell her, when, to my great disappoint- 
ment, she said, " i" will rake after the wagon, my son ; 
here is thy dinner" (handing me the basket), " go to school, 
and be a good boy." Another time the men wished me to 
"pull back/' in cleaning wheat with a fan or windmill. 
On telling her, with hopeful feelings, she said as before, 
" I will pall back : go to school." 

I tried every expedient I could devise, to gain the priv- 
ilege of staying at home, for which it is but justice to 
myself to say, there was some excuse in the severity of the 
teacher,* who went about the school-room carrying under 

* Our father did not give his name ; he was one of several that 
succeeded his loved cousin, Dr. Shoemaker. 



his arm a large rod or switch, which would resound from 
a back here and another there, every little while, and 
sometimes on a whole bench-full successively, from which 
I did not escape. Being very sensitive and nervous, the 
sound of a stroke on another hurt me almost as badly, it 
seemed, as if it had been on myself. I dreaded going to 
school exceedingly, and thought any expedient, which was 
not criminal, would be justifiable, that would relieve me 
from a day of such agony. We had school six days in the 
week, except Monthly Meeting day, and when school was 
dismissed on Seventh-day afternoon, I would walk home 
with a light heart and enjoy the evening greatly — but a 
sadness would rest on me the next morning, from the dark 
shadow of the approaching school-day. 

One morning, under a strong pressure of these feelings, 
I thought I would make one more effort, and hide my hat. 
When the time arrived to go to school, mother brought me 
my basket of dinner and said, " Now, my son, it is time to 
go to school." I told her I could not see my hat any- 
where. She told me to look again. I replied, I had been 
looking a long time. She then came to assist me in hunt- 
ing it, and whether or not she suspected I had hidden it 
I never knew ; but she went deliberately and got her black 
silk bonnet, and said, " Thee can wear this to-day," and 
without changing a muscle of her face, began to tie it on, 
I looking steadily into her eye, where, child as I was, I 
could see a look of determination that I knew to be irresist- 
ible. I exclaimed, "Oh, mother, I think I can find my 
hat" (but she kept on tying the strings of the bonnet); 
" I am sure I can find it, mother, it is in the dough- 
trough," by which time the bonnet was well tied on and 
her countenance still unrelaxed. This circumstance is 
strongly impressed on me to this day. I went with a 



quick step to the dough-trough and got my hat, and said, 
" Here it is, mother ; please take this bonnet off," which she 
did, to my great joy, and I felt that I had made a narrow 
escape, and never tried it again. This was one turning 
point in my life. With my disposition and capacity for 
expedients, had she then yielded, the consequences cannot 
be told. I fully believe her firmness on that occasion 
saved me. The school seemed pleasanter after I had satis- 
fied myself there was no remedy, and from that time I got 
on rapidly with my studies, and I think, became a favorite 
with the teacher. 

My mother's earnest and determined effort to keep me 
at school caused me to go in the summer time, when I was, 
by contrast, one of the " big boys " and most advanced 
scholars, so that for several summers the teacher would get 
me to hear some of the classes, boys and girls, in an adjoin- 
ing apartment. Here I gained my first experience in 
teaching and it delighted me. 

About this time, 1809, there were two sisters, with an 
orphan niece younger than I, from Philadelphia, boarding 
in the neighborhood. Mother, as was her custom when 
strangers were in the neighborhood, invited them to take 
tea with us, which they did. The two sisters sat at the 
side of the table, their niece at the corner, and I at her 
right hand. When the little girl had finished her supper, 
she put her hands together, her fingers extended, and said, 
in the sweetest accents I almost ever heard, " Thank the 
Lord and Mrs. Hallowell for my supper. " What a ser- 
mon that was to me ! I have never seen her since, but 
have very, very often thought of her and her sermon. 

in 1809, brother James went to Philadelphia as an ap- 
prentice in uncle William Hailoweirs hardware store, 
No. 197 North Third street. Uncle William also had a 



store on the southwest corner of Third and Arch streets, 
with his brother-in-law, Abel Satterthwaite. This suited 
and pleased him greatly, and he soon made himself 
useful. He left home for his new situation in the early 
fall, and at Christmas I received permission to spend 
Christmas day and two nights at Uncle William's with 
him. It was a delightful and memorable time to me. 
We slept together, and I told him in the evening I wished 
to hear the watchman " cry the hour." After I had got 
to sleep, he nudged me, and in an undertone said : " Ben, 
Ben, hear the watchman ! " I soon listened, and heard 
faintly in the far distance the cry, "Ho — past — twel-ve 
o'clock." Then all was- still — then the same cry, a little 
nearer — then the sound of his staff, and then his step 
could be heard, and the cry, more and more distinctly, as 
he drew nearer, with his heavy tread and knock of his 
staff on the pavement, till he seemed almost under the 
window. I felt a little alarmed, and huddled up close to 
my brother for safety. Then the cry became fainter and 
fainter as he passed, till at length it died away in the re- 
mote distance. I can recollect the scene and the attendant 
feeling as if it had been yesterday. 

My brother was all love and kindness, having outgrown 
or corrected entirely his disposition to tease, and I have 
always looked back to this visit as one of the pleasantest 
incidents in my life. I walked home the next morning, 
eight miles, in just two hours. 

My mother and I used to attend Philadelphia market 
from grandfather's, with the produce of the farm, leaving 
home about two o'clock in the morning, and returning be- 
fore dinner-time. In the fall of 1809, as there was need 
of a cow for beef, we went down to the cow market, near 
Walnut street, where one was bought, and I left to drive her 



out of town, mother going for the market wagon, to follow. 
I got her along very well to the corner of Fourth and Vine, 
I think it was, where, I suppose, she had been accustomed 
to turn off, when she started up Vine street, I after her, to 
get before her and drive her back. The weather was very 
hot, and the then unpaved streets were extremely dusty. 
On coming to Fourth street, she turned down back again, 
when another race was required to get before her and 
bring her back to Vine street, up which she turned 
again, and all had to be repeated. I was almost over- 
come with exhaustion, yet could not give up and leave 
the cow, when a gentleman coming down Vine street on 
the sidewalk, seeing me, and seeming at once to compre- 
hend my situation, went through the dust into the middle 
of the street, stopped the cow, and assisted me in getting 
her started out Fourth street, after which I hcA no further 
trouble, and arrived with her safe at the place at which 
mother and I had agreed to meet. 

Kow, the form of that gentleman, with his blue coat 
and shining metal buttons, stepping out into the dusty 
streets to assist an unknown child, is before my mind viv- 
idly as I write, after the lapse of sixty-five years. How 
glad I would be to know who he was ! But he taught me 
a lesson I have steadily acted upon — never to pass a per- 
son whom I see in difficulty without rendering him all the 
assistance in my power; for the double reason, that I know 
from experience how grateful such assistance is to the re- 
cipient, and the recipient may be a descendant of the gen- 
tleman to whom I feel under lasting obligations. 

In the fall of 1810, one of my schoolmates, Jonathan 
Paul, whose mother, Esther Paul, was a niece of grand- 
father Shoemaker's, and, I think, a sister of George Shoe- 
maker, came home with me from school, to stay all 



night. It was delightful to me ; he was the first guest 
I had ever had. We were put to sleep in the guest 
chamber, over grandfather's room, and enjoyed it greatly. 
The next morning we were up early, before the moon and 
stars had disappeared. The beautiful bright day, and his 
imitating the crowing of the chickens, are vividly im- 
pressed as among the pleasant recollections of my 
early life. 

1811 — Age, 12. 

Death of his grandfather — Assists his mother — Anecdotes of 
early times, related by his grandfather — Family again sep- 
arated — Uncertainty as to his future — Goes to live with his 
uncle Comly Shoemaker — Quickness at calculations — Be- 
gins the study of geometry — Solves the problem of "The 
Three Steeples" — Constructs a quadrant — Lesson learned 
from an accidental picture — Sorrow at the sudden death of 
a schoolmate — Alarmed by a soldier — Love of nature — 
Eaccoon supper — Childish faith — Conscientiousness — No 
Young Companions. 

On the 16th of Third month, 1811, my dear grand- 
father closed his long and eventful life, aged eighty-four 
years. His wife died on the 17th of Third month, 1793. 
She was very hard of hearing. They had fourteen chil- 
dren, twelve of whom lived to be young men and women. 
Grandfather outlived all his children but three, Nathan, 
Jane, and Comly. As before mentioned, I was named 
after him, and slept with him several years, and to the 
commencement of his last sickness, which was nine days 
before his death. I always felt safe in his presence. 



In 1809-10, my mother having no help, and my sister 
being nearly two years younger than myself, 1 used to help 
milk, set the table, make the coffee, bake buckwheat cakes, 
etc., etc., and this part of my education I have valued 
very much, and have found very serviceable to me to this 
day. It was a good training of the muscles, too, for my 
work afterwards in the laboratory and lecture-room, and 
there is no part of my life to which I look back with 
greater interest and pleasure, than those days when I was 
assisting my dear mother in her household duties, she, 
grandfather, my sister Mary, and I, constituting the family, 
except the laboring men. As mother rose very early, 
we would get the milking and other work done in time for 
school, which was never neglected, except on hog-killing 
day. The school was vacated in harvest time, when I 
would work in the field, gathering sheaves, raking after 
the wagon, handing sheaves on the barrack or mow. I 
often assisted the men in the mornings and evenings when 
I went to school, by which I learned to do many things 
that were afterwards of use. 

As already stated, on the 10th day of Third month, 
my grandfather Shoemaker died. It was Seventh-day 
morning, and I had gone with uncle Comly to Philadel- 
phia, to market. Uncle had gone over to grandfather's 
about midnight, it being but a short distance, and although 
it was manifest that his father's end was near, there were 
no symptoms of a sudden change. 

About 7 o'clock, Benjamin Harper came down to Phila- 
delphia with the sad intelligence that grandfather was 
dead. It was very unexpected to uncle. Although he re- 
mained calm, I could see he felt deeply, and seemingly 
more, because he was not with him at his . close. After 
considering for some time (I can see him yet, distinctly, as 



he stood in deep thought, occasionally taking a step or two 
forward and then back), he concluded to take the horse 
that Benjamin Harper had ridden down, and return home, 
leaving us to dispose of the marketing, which w T e did, and 
then followed. Dear grandfather's close was very peaceful 
and quiet, so that those w 7 ho were sitting up with him did 
not know when he breathed his last. They had been to 
his bedside a little time before, when he appeared to be 
sleeping, but, returning a few minutes after, all was still in 
death ! not a sigh or a groan, or the least struggle, having 
been witnessed. He was buried in the grave-yard near by, 
the next afternoon, First-day, the 17th of Third month, the 
eighteenth anniversary of the death of his wife. 

Before leaving the account of my dear grandfather, there 
are two incidents of his early life, which he related to me, 
that it seems proper to preserve, as showing the difference 
between those times and the present. At that time, 
wolves, catamounts, bears, and other such animals were 
abundant, and scarcely any man went far from home 
without his gun or rifle. Nor was it safe to walk after 
night' on account of them. 

A company, of whom my grandfather was one, w T ere 
belated on one occasion and climbed up into a barrack six 
or eight feet high, to take shelter for the night, each with 
a loaded gun beside him. In a little time all were asleep 
but my grandfather. His hearing was very acute, and he 
heard something come softly, tread, tread, tread, and at 
length, with one spring, mount the barrack. My grand- 
father had got his gun ready w T hen he heard the tramp, 
and the instant the animal lighted he fired at it, which of 
course aroused his comrades, who inquired w T hat was the 
matter. He told them something was about to disturb 
their slumbers, and he gave it a hint not to do so. In the 



morning they found a large catamount lying dead at the 
foot of the barrack. 

In the other incident, he was returning from Philadel- 
phia one very cold winter evening, and stopped to warm at 
the " Kising Sun," about three miles from the city. It was 
then the only tavern on the road. He had been in the 
tavern but a little time, when another farmer, who had 
been down with a load of hay, came in, telling what sum 
he had received for it, and that he had been attacked by 
robbers, who demanded his money. He took a candlestick 
that he had in his wagon, and holding it towards them, 
told them he would give them the contents of that, if they 
attempted to rob him. They, thinking it was a pistol, im- 
mediately disappeared. As soon as he had finished his 
statement, three rough-looking men, strangers, got up and 
went out. The landlord told the hay man that he thought 
from their looks and manner on leaving, there was evil in- 
tention, and insisted on his taking a loaded double-barrel 
pistol with him, which he did. He had gone but a little 
way before he was stopped, and a demand made for his 
money. He presented his pistol and told them he would 
give them the contents of that if they attempted to rob 
him. " Ah," said they, " we are not afraid of your candle- 
stick," at which he fired one barrel and then the other 
(not aiming at them), and he saw no more of them, and 
got home safe. 

The time succeeding grandfather's death was a sad one 
for dear mother and me. The family had again to be 
broken up, and everything sold, to be divided among grand- 
father's heirs. He bequeathed to mother an annuity of 
eighty dollars a year, the interest of five hundred pounds, 
Pennsylvania currency, to be secured on the farm during 
her life. 



Uncle Samuel Shoemaker of Horsham, about eight miles 
further up the Old York road from Philadelphia, then 
invited my mother to live with them, in the same capacity 
in which she had lived with her father, and she, accepting 
the invitation, went there with my sister and found a 
pleasant and kind home, but I never afterwards had the 
pleasure of a home with her. Her standing injunction, 
however, was, "Be a good boy," and I well understood 
w T hat this meant and included. 

There was some difficulty in deciding what was to be 
done with me. I felt deeply interested as I heard this 
question discussed. Mother wanted uncle Comly to take 
me, but he already had four of his nephews with him, and 
there seemed to be no room for me. 

John L. Williams, who was a first cousin of my father's, 
was spoken of, then Isaac Michener, and several others, 
farmers, and industrious, hard-working, thrifty people ; but 
dear mother, knowing that though I was w T ell grown for 
my age, I was not strong (for the bleeding at the nose, and 
occasionally heart-burn, and sick stomach, still continued), 
seemed as if she could not consent for me to go to any one 
of the places named. At length, influenced, as I have 
always believed, by my mother's tears and entreaties, uncle 
Comly consented to take me on trial. I have reason to 
believe he never regretted it, and I know it w T as a great 
blessing to me. It was another turning point in my life, 
in which I have often thought I could see the workings of 
the " Unseen Hand " that has guided and assisted me all 
through the many windings and changes of my pilgrimage. 

But my situation in my new home was rather a trying 
one. I was as tall as either of the two older boys, and it 
seemed only reasonable that I should take my full turn 
with them, which I did, though my strength was inade- 



quate. Although I was without any companions, the two 
older boys associating together, yet I determined to bear it 
and do my part, and I experienced instruction and pleas- 
ant seasons when alone, and in the company of my dear 
uncle. The training my -dear mother had given me in 
housework enabled me to make myself useful to my aunt, 
assisting in milking, doing the churning, and helping in 
many ways about the house, so that I gradually gained in 
her confidence and love, and she soon became as kind to 
me as a mother. 

After some time, aunt Sally's niece, Amelia Bird, came 
from Philadelphia to live with her aunt. Amelia had 
been brought up with Caleb and Margaret Shreve, in the 
city, and the business and ways of country life being new 
to her, my training enabled me to assist her and be useful 
to her ; she acknowledged her obligations, and became my 
true and lasting friend. 

I was very ready at mental calculation, even then, and 
when aunt Sally went to market, as she frequently did 
in busy times, she always took me along to do the calcula- 
tions for her, as did uncle also, and when he would go to 
market or to other places on business and sell anything, as 
a quarter of veal, or a ham, so many pounds at a given 
price, he would turn to me to know what it " came to," 
and the purchaser, frequently, would test it with his pencil 
and always find it right, which pleased uncle. 

On one occasion we took a load of oak bark to Thomas's 
tan-yards, about two miles down the turnpike, where they 
measured it, reading off the length, breadth, and height in 
feet and inches, which I kept in my mind. As we rode 
home, standing up in the wagon, I calculated "in my head" 
how much was in the load. Uncle took off his hat and 
chalked on it the result. When we went with another load, 



he asked one of the two Thomas brothers how much the 
previous load contained, and when he obtained the result 
by calculation with the pencil, uncle showed him on his hat 
that it was the same I had made it, which pleased them both. 
Uncle told this circumstance to many persons, and it all 
tended to improve my comfort at home and develop and 
strengthen the mathematical faculty. 

Benjamin Harper and John S. Rose, two of the 
nephews, soon after went to trades, and I was advanced 
to the general care of things around the house, barn, etc., 
and everything was very pleasant. The school was not 
neglected, for as soon as the fall work was done, which 
was early in the Eleventh month, I was started off to 
school, to go steadily until the 1st of Fourth month, mak- 
ing five months. 

I had got through the arithmetic in the winter of 1810- 
11, before grandfather died, and the teacher said I must 
now have surveying and geometry, so uncle Comly 
bought me Gibson's Surveying and Simpson's Geometry 
(both of which I have yet, and they have been of the 
greatest service to me), a case of mathematical instru- 
ments, and a box of paints, containing twelve cakes of 
water-colors, with all of which I commenced school in 
the fall of 1811. 

The teacher, who had been a scholar of Enoch Lewis's, 
gave me, as an extra, the problem of the "Three Stee- 
ples" (now in " Gummere's Surveying," which was not 
then published). I succeeded, after some days' trial, in 
obtaining quite an accurate construction to it, which 
pleased him, and he then showed me how to obtain the 
point where the observer stood, on the geometrical prin- 
ciple that " angles in the same segment of a circle are 
equal." This delighted me greatly, the more from the 




preparation for understanding it which my previous efforts 
to solve it had given me. 

I constructed a quadrant of wood, marking the degrees 
with ink, with which I took the height of the school-house 
at Abington, of the sycamore trees at uncle Comly's 
spring-house, and of numerous other objects; which was 
interesting and improving " field-work " practice. 

After taking the height of the school-house, which was 
of two stories, and measuring its dimensions, I drew a 
picture of it, painting the roof of a dark color. While 
finishing the chimney, I accidentally let the paint-brush 
fall, the brush part foremost, just on the top of the drawn 
chimney, making an exact representation of a colored 
boy's curly head coming out at the top, his features seem- 
ing perfect. When I took the ciphering-book home con- 
taining this picture of the school-house and of the colored 
boy, and told them the likeness was made by accidentally 
letting the paint-brush fall, it was unmistakably manifest 
that my statement did not receive full credit. Uncle 
Comly showed it to a number of persons, and when I 
would tell them that the picture of the head was made by 
accident, I could see the same evidences of doubt, so I 
concluded it best to say nothing further about it. I felt 
somewhat uncomfortable at my word being thus doubted, 
but I saw there was an excuse for them in the seeming 
miracle of the accidental correct representation, in every 
respect beyond anything I could have drawn by effort. 
The lessons I learned from this incident are: It is not 
best to discredit the statements of children ; and, we should 
be careful not to tell too marvelous stories. 

An incident occurred at this time that impressed me 
very deeply. My most familiar friend at school was 
James Benezett. He was a little older than I, but slen- 



der, delicate, refined and retiring, and I loved him. He 
sat next the wall, and I next. Like myself, he was very 
punctual at school, and I inferred he had a good mother. 
One day in the winter he was not there, and we heard in 
the evening he had been sent to the post-office on horse- 
back, when the ground was icy, and was found dead in the 
road, there being evidences that the horse had fallen with 
him. Poor, dear James! The school felt desolate when 
thou wast gone! I thought I should never enjoy any- 
thing again. For weeks he was almost continually on 
my mind, at home and at school. But the great soother, 
Time, came to my relief, and gradually softened the deep 
grief into tender recollections of the departed one, which 
abide deep and strong to the present writing. 

In the fall of 1812, at the commencement of the war, 
when I was thirteen, there w^as a company of soldiers 
formed in the neighborhood. I had an instinctive dread 
of war and of soldiers, thinking it was their business to 
kill people. I was returning to uncle Comly's one even- 
ing after dark, and just as I was leaving the turnpike to 
turn into the lane, I heard a clattering of a horse's feet, 
and when he got opposite me, the rider, who I could see 
was a soldier in his regimentals, jumped off, and presenting 
a large pistol against my leg, said : * Which shall I kill, 
you or your horse?" There was a boy scared! I plead 
like a good fellow for the life of both. I seemed to 
feel the sensation from the touch of the pistol run- 
ning up my leg, and even yet, when I think of it, the 
twinges seem revived. He saw that I was much fright- 
ened, and told me his name, that of one of our neigh- 
bors, whom I well knew, and he asked me to excuse 
him, as he intended it for a joke, thinking I would have 
known him by his features, which I should probably have 



done, had it been daylight. I excused him, and we parted 
good friends. On getting home, I related the circum- 
stance to uncle Conily and brother James, who thought 
his conduct was unjustifiable. 

It is said that "character is the result of organism, 
acted upon by environments/ ' and the pressure of my sur- 
roundings thus far in life had given sharp outlines to 
mine. When I went to live at uncle Conily's, having no 
associates, as already stated, I spent much of the time 
alone, but never felt lonely. When at leisure, especially 
on First-days, I rambled into the woods and among the 
flowers and irrigating streams in what had been grand- 
father's back meadow, near uncle's, where sister Mary and 
I had wandered, careless and happy, in former years. It 
was a beautiful meadow, where grandfather had conducted 
a stream for a long distance, from a large spring in one 
corner, along the upper part of a slope. From this 
stream little branches were permitted at different places 
to flow and spread over the bank, imparting to the grass 
a vigorous growth, a " livelier green," and luxuriant ap- 
pearance, that I have many, many times since revisited in 
my dreams. 

I was very fond of watching and listening to the birds, 
observing the waves *on the growing grain and grass, and 
was charmed with the motion of the trees, and the roar of 
the wind through a woods or a large pine tree or around 
the house. All nature pleased me. The moon and the 
stars delighted me, as did frequently the splendor of the 
heavens at sunset or sunrise, which last I then had an 
opportunity of observing more times in a year than I have 
done since. 

A little incident occurred about this time, which so 
illustrates the character of the middle-aged people of that 



day, who were actors in it, that I will endeavor to 
relate it. 

A company of them happened to meet at uncle Thomas 
Shoemaker's, among whom were his brother-in-law, Thomas 
Thompson, uncle Comly, Samuel Rowland, and perhaps 
one or two others, and they were talking over old-time 
j:>leasures and enjoyments, and among other topics, the 
relish they had had for a raccoon supper, wondering if it 
would relish as well now that they were older, and all 
agreeing that they would like to have an opportunity of 
trying it. Aunt Hannah at once told them if they would 
procure one she would cook it, as she used to do, and they 
should all meet and have the supper there. Uncle Comly 
said he frequently saw them for sale in the Philadelphia 
market, and he would j)rocure one for her to dress 
and cook, and word was to be given to them all, for 
them and their wives lo meet there to supper. 

The raccoon was bought ; aunt Hannah had it cooked, 
and all met to partake. They sat down and spoke of how 
very nicely she had prepared it, how good it was, and 
how it reminded them of " the days of other years." She 
urged them to take more — said she feared she had not 
" jDrepared it as nicely as they expected." " Oh," they 
said, " it could not have been better," and they had " eaten 
very heartily." They " could not eat any more." 

She asked them to enjoy themselves around the table 
for a few minutes, and had the dishes all taken to the 
kitchen, and a nice baked chicken-pie, with a cup of 
coffee, and its accompaniments, set on the table. The 
dear people all set to work as if there had not been a 
raccoon in the neighborhood, while a mischievous smile 
played on aunt Hannah's countenance. Iso one praised 
the second supper by wordts : it praised itself. 



My mother and brother had both drawn my attention, 
carefully and earnestly, to the everywhere presence of the 
Good Father, and said, that w T hat w T e asked of him, in 
faith, we would receive. This was confirmed by the New 
Testament, which was one of our school-books. Our other 
reading-books too,which consisted of Murray's Introduction, 
English Reader and Sequel, and Cowper's Task, all tended 
to elevate the feelings in religion and inspire trust in God. 
But the point of difficulty I experienced, w r as, how to ask 
" in faith." I was confident in the belief that if I could 
only do that I would obtain what I asked for. I am will- 
ing to mention in this connexion, that on several occasions 
w T hen alone, I first thought, " I have faith ;" then said 
it in a whisper, then said it aloud, and in every instance I 
received what I asked for. 

I will mention two cases. One morning uncle and 
aunt were going in a sleigh to Germantown, about four 
miles distant. I had never been there, and had a great 
desire to go ; so, when alone, I asked the Good Father to 
help me in the way I have stated. We went to breakfast, 
the two older boys sitting next to uncle, on his left, I next 
below them, and aunt Sally on the opposite side of the 
table to uncle's right. I was quiet, but felt confident I 
would get to go. While my mind was dwelling on it, 
aunt Sally said, "Suppose we take Ben along!" Uncle 
turned to me and said, " Would thee like to go ? " " In- 
deed I would," I answered, and he told me to get ready. 
I have always believed it was the Good Spirit that moved 
my dear aunt to make the proposition in my favor. I can 
see us all at the table as plainly as if it had been 

Another time there w r as to be a " cellar-digging " at 
Joshua Paxson's, who owned the place where I was born, 



just back of uncle's. Uncle was going after an early 
dinner, in order to make a long afternoon, and I wished 
very much to go too, but said nothing on the subject to 
any one, only to express my desire and faith to the Good 
Father, in the manner before stated. Soon after we sat 
down to dinner, arranged as we had been at the breakfast 
I have mentioned, uncle said, " Which of the boys shall 
I take with me ? 99 " Oh ! " said aunt Sally, " take Benny- 
boy ; he would like to go, I am sure ; " and he did, to the 
rejoicing of my heart. The Good Father, as I fully 
believed, again prompted her heart and my uncle's too, 
perhaps, in my favor. 

The remembrance of these incidents has been very 
instructive and encouraging to me. This cellar-digging 
was on the 1st of Fifth month, and on my way to it, I had 
to cross a rye-field, and observing the rye was in head, 
I was reminded of what I had heard my grandfather say, 
that " There never was a first of May without a head 
of rye." 

I have mentioned we had an early dinner. I was 
placed with some others to fill the carts with earth, as they 
came back after being unloaded, and we worked very 
hard, and by sunset, which is pretty late at that time 
of the year, I began to feel weak, but the carts still came 
back, and had to be filled. So they came one after 
another till it was nearly dark. One of our company was 
an Irishman, named James McGuire, sent by neighbor 
Leech, to help. On one of the sons bringing another 
cart back, James spoke up, " Wullet, why didn't ye bring 
a candle wid ye *" " Oh," said Willet, who took the hint, 
" let us turn out." I was obliged to Jimmy, as we called 
him. How plainly these incidents are all before me as 
I write! 



I sometimes said things, or committed acts, that were 
not right. Then I found no peace at heart, till my mind 
was brought into a condition to endeavor to avoid a repeti- 
tion of it, and if I had wronged an individual, to make 
all the amends in my power, to correct the wrong. Then 
I would feel reconciled to the Good Father. This was 
heart-work between the Good Father and my soul. 

I was very conscientious and sensitive at this time, and 
feel it right to relate two incidents where I was checked. 
I was sent one morning on an errand to Joseph Rorer's, 
who lived on the other side of the county line road from 
uncle's, and I had to cross a field of well-grown grass. 
As I went I came across a bird's nest with beautiful blue 
eggs in it. I wanted them very much, and saw no bird, 
but when I went to take them I felt a check, as saying, 
" They are not thine." I went on, and after I had finished 
my "errand and was returning through the same field, I 
thought, Now if I happen, in this large field of grass, to 
pass over the same nest, without the least design, I will re- 
gard it as an evidence that I may take the eggs. In a little 
time I did come across the same nest with the same blue 
eggs in it, and felt rejoiced at my good luck, but on stoop- 
ing down to take them, I felt the same check as before, 
"They are not thine," and I went on home thoughtful. 
This too has been of great instruction to me. 

Having little to amuse me, and uncle having a gun 
which he allowed me to use, there was some danger of my 
becoming fond of gunning. One morning I saw a bird on 
the top of a large walnut tree. I took my gun, fired at 
the bird, and down it came. I felt gratified at my success, 
but this was soon changed to pain. It was a beautiful 
dove, its eyes bright and clear, with one wing badly 
broken. What shall I do with it ? was the thought. I 



would have given anything I possessed, could it have been 
on the tree-top as it was before. The idea of the pain it 
was suffering from my thoughtless sport, wrung my heart. 
My feelings would not let me kill it, so I threw it into the 
pig-pen near by, and the hogs soon put it out of its 
misery. But I had no more comfort that day, thinking of 
my cruelty, and I have never taken an interest in a gun 

At my present home I had little opportunity for social 
intercourse. There were no young persons there, and no 
neighbors' children with whom I could associate, and I 
was not invited to take a meal from home, in the settle- 
ment, more than once or twice in the year ; then uncle 
George Hallowell would ask me to go with him from 
meeting and take dinner with him, aunt Sarah, and their 
children. This is the only place I can call to mind, of 
taking a meal in the neighborhood, in the three years and 
more that I lived at uncle Comly's. 

I was permitted to walk on Seventh-day afternoon to 
see my mother at uncle Samuel's, about eight miles, once 
in three or four months, perhaps, as often as I wished to 
do so, and return the next afternoon. Besides this, I was 
allowed to go about once a year to Philadelphia, to stay 
over night, at my uncle William's or uncle Atkinson 
Rose's. I would go to Philadelphia with the market 
wagon, and walk home, eight miles. This was the extent 
of my visiting. 

I had no opportunity of making anything, and con- 
sequently my store of pocket-money was small ; but then 
we lived well, and I had everything I needed, and did not 
feel the want of more. When I went to see uncle William 
he invariably gave me something ; a Barlow pocket-knife, a 
"levy," and sometimes a "quarter," which would make 



me feel rich. Uncle Comly too, when I went with him 
to market, would get me to drive as we rode home, while 
he counted the money he had received for the marketing, 
and he would occasionally ask me to make some calcula- 
tion in regard to what he had sold by the bushel or pound, 
and after he was done, he would always give me a " fip " 
or a " levy." My finances, traveling, and my intercourse 
with the world, were so far very limited. After my 
grandfather's death I was sent on an errand to Doyles- 
town, the county-seat of Bucks county, about eight miles 
further up the Old York road, to get an advertisement of 
the sale of the farm put in the paper. This was the first 
time I had seen a printing-press. I was then about 
twenty-five miles from Philadelphia, northward, and six- 
teen from uncle Comly's and the place where I was born, 
which was the greatest distance I ever was from home, 
until I went to John Gummere's school, at Burlington, 
Xew Jersey, when I was eighteen years old. The extent 
of my journeyings up to that time were, from Philadelphia 
to Doylestown, northward, and as far as Germantown and 
Plymouth, six or eight miles east and west. But my mind 
was not idle, and I had sources of enjoyment in the varied 
objects of nature, and was never lonely, preferring to be by 
myself, unless I could be with those from whom I could 
learn something. The impress of all this was not favor- 
able to a life of social enjoyment, and a deficiency in this 
respect has been felt ever since, and is to this day. 




1814— Age 15. 

Desires to learn a trade — Goes to Nathan Lukens's to learn 
carpentering and cabinet-making — First impressions dis- 
couraging — Finds himself useful and is reconciled — 
Pleased with the business — Articles made by himself — 
Reflections — First chemical experiment — Fall from ladder 
and consequent suffering — Old colored woman's advice 
— Anecdote of colored clergyman — Unable to continue 
his trade — At his uncle Comly's — Concludes to qualify 
himself for a teacher — Goes to the village school — Solves 
difficult problem in geometry — 1817, goes to John Gum- 
mere's — Enraptured with chemical experiments — Delight- 
ful experiences at Burlington — Favorite sermon by George 
Dillwyn — Leaves Burlington. 

I wanted very much to learn a trade, to use, tools and 
be a builder, and many inquiries were unsuccessfully made 
for a situation of the kind in Philadelphia. At length, 
Nathan Lukens, of Horsham, my mother's first cousin, 
offered to take me as an apprentice. He was both a car- 
penter and joiner, and I was much pleased with the idea 
of living with him. I would then be within two miles of 
my mother and sister, would belong to the same meeting, 
and there would be a probability of my seeing them more 

It was therefore arranged that I should go there to 
learn the trades, and on First-day morning, Tenth month 
8th, 1814, I packed up my wardrobe in a pocket-handker- 
chief, and walked with my bundle up to Nathan Lukens's, 



eight or nine miles. I was very tired when I got there. 
I had never seen the place, although I had several times 
seen him at Uncle Comly's. He was a joleasant man, very 
tall, and I found his residence was a tall, narrow, three- 
story house, on a high bank called Murdick Hill. The 
shop had an open basement, in which his hearse was 
standing, ready to convey coffins at funerals. I stood for 
some time contemplating it. The aspect of things did not 
make a very favorable impression, but after a little while 
I ventured into the house and introduced myself to Ma- 
tilda, his wife, Nathan not being then in, and they not ex- 
pecting me that day. I found she had a little daughter, 
Eebecca, about two and a half years old, which pleased 
me, for I had never lived where there was a child since I 
lived with my little sister. Nathan came home soon, and 
things began to look and feel a little more pleasant and 

After tea* a neighbor came over, and I was introduced 
to her, and when she understood the arrangement, she con- 
gratulated Matilda on having me to help her. She could 
soon teach me to milk, she said, and that would be a great 
relief. I told them that my mother had taught me to 
milk years ago, and that I had frequently helped my aunt 
Sally to milk, and that I would be glad to give any relief 
and assistance to Matilda in my power. How the train- 
ing my dear mother gave me enabled me to make my way 
favorably with those amongst whom I was thrown ! Ma- 
tilda had no help whatever, and it was a pleasure to me to 
milk, and to assist her whenever I could. The shop was 
near by, and she would send little Rebecca for me when- 
ever my assistance was needed. 

I was pleased with the business. Nathan had a lot of 
about twenty acres, in which was corn, etc., and when it 



was needed we worked on that, where I could make a full 
hand now, and we would then work in the shop by 

The hardest part was when we would have to sit up till 
midnight or after, making and polishing a coffin for a fu- 
neral next day, I having to hold the light. 

But the business of the trade suited me. The winter 
was employed in joiner-work in the shop, which was kept 
warm and comfortable. I made a knife-box for Aunt 
Sally, dove-tailing the corners nicely, and a self-sustaining 
lever for uncle Comly to take off the carriage or wagon 
wheels in order to grease them. Nathan made a fine large 
secretary of mahogany, with secret places for deeds, bonds, 
etc., very ingenious and very handsome. Any part that I 
could do, on that or his other works, he put me at. 

Not long after I went there, it was proposed by 
Nathan that he, his wife and daughter, should go, after 
an early Seventh-day dinner, to spend the night at his 
sister's, twelve or fourteen miles distant, and return the 
next evening, and I would milk the cow and take care 
of things in the meanwhile. Matilda made me a nice 
chicken pie for my First-day dinner, and left everything I 
needed in abundance. Nathan told me what to do in the 
afternoon, and while I had something to employ me the 
time passed pleasantly; but after the milking was done, 
my lonely supper eaten, and the dishes washed and put 
away, the prospect ahead of staying in that tall, unshapely 
house all night alone, was not very comfortable. I went 
to bed before dark, and, thanks to youth, I did not wake 
till morning. The day ahead looked so long, with nothing 
to do ! I prepared my breakfast, but had not much appe- 
tite. There were no books to read. I went to Horsham 
meeting, about a mile south, which helped to pass the day ; 



went home and ate my chicken pie, and after dinner I felt 
better from the prospect of their soon being back. I had 
a good fire and a nice supper prepared for them, and it 
was truly pleasant to have them home again. 

They made this visit about once in a month or six 
weeks while I lived with them, and although it was always 
dreary in their absence, it was never so much so as at this 
first time. 

In the incidents of my life thus far, there had been 
little or nothing to develop or strengthen a healthy self- 
respect, which depends much on a conscious recognition 
by others of obligations and benefits conferred ; and such 
self-respect is an element of character in which I have al- 
ways been painfully deficient, partly, as I believe, from 
my environments in my early life. Still, by the faithful 
performance of my duty, my actions showed that I re- 
spected myself morally, and by Cowper's rule, I was 
worthy of respect. 

One Seventh-day afternoon, in the early sjoring of 
1815, I walked down to see them all at uncle Comly's, 
and had a delightful visit, and the next afternoon walked 
back, carrying in my handkerchief six goose-eggs that 
aunt Sally kindly gave me to put under a hen that was 
about to sit. Five of them hatched, and they pleased 
little Rebecca and her mother highly. All five lived, and 
in eight months they were as large as old geese, and it was 
very gratifying to Matilda to have them. 

In the same spring we worked about at different 
places, doing carpenter work. We put up a building 
about two miles off for Nathaniel Richardson. While 
there, he collected some gas by stirring the leaves, etc., in 
the bottom of a pond, transferring the gas to a gas pistol, 
and exploding it, which was the first chemical experiment 



I ever saw performed, and it pleased me highly. We did 
some work for aunt Grace Conard, and all seemed to be 
progressing very finely. 

About the first of the Seventh month, uncle Samuel 
Shoemaker, with whom mother lived, wanted a new roof 
put on part of his house. There was to be a great cele- 
bration on the " 4th of July," at the Billet, which I was 
desirous of attending, and Nathan said if we got the roof 
put on I might go. So on Second-day morning, the 3d 
of Seventh month, we got up and walked, with our tools, 
over to Uncle Samuel's, two miles, before sunrise, ready to 
go to work. But the long ladder was needed, which was 
at Dr. Gove Mitchell's, near by, and I was sent with a 
horse and cart to bring it. The doctor said there was a 
board off the gable end of his barn (which was one with 
stables under), above the square, that he wished nailed on 
before the ladder went away. I told him if he would let 
me have a hammer and some nails, I could soon do it. 
These were procured, and the doctor and Thomas Ackley 
were holding the ladder, while I went up with the hammer 
and nails and board. It was so high that I was obliged to 
stand on the round next to the top one and steady myself 
by putting my fingers through a knot-hole in the board 
above. I got all fastened but the extreme end on the left, 
and was reaching over to drive the nail in it, when they 
let the ladder slip at the top. I held with my finger to 
the board above, when it came off, and there was no alter- 
native but to tumble head foremost or jump. I chose the 
latter. The distance was about twenty feet, the ground 
very hard, and oh ! it did hurt me ! My ankles were both 
sprained, and the cartilages between the bones of the 
joints were bruised and swelled so that my laced boots had 
to be cut to get them off. My back, too, was very much 



injured. They took me home to uncle Samuel's, with the 
ladder, and when my mother saw them bringing me back 
in the cart, she, perhaps naturally, imagined I was killed, 
and anxiously exclaimed, ' ' Is he dead ?" They answered, 
" No, but he is a good deal hurt by a fall." 

There was the greatest amount of pity for the "poor 
boy," as they called me, from uncle Samuel, aunt Agnes, 
and the rest. They had a nice lounge fixed up for me in 
the parlor, and one after another of the old people would 
sit by me by the hour, to keep the flies off, with a look of 
the tenderest compassion. Dear mother, too, gaye all the 
spare time she had from her household duties to at- 
tend to me. 

But, badly as my ankles and back hurt me, my mental 
sufferings were eyen more seyere. I could not understand 
it in the dispensations of Proyidence. I regarded it as a 
"judgment," while I had been doing the very best I knew, 
and had not to my knowledge done one wrong thing for 
oyer three weeks. There was no one to whom I could 
make these troubles known, they seeming to be a matter to 
be kept between me and the Good Father alone, who, I 
thought, was offended with me, and I kept my head under 
the coyer of the lounge and wept, and wept ! 

That evening of the 3d I suffered very much with 
my ankles and back. Dr. Mitchell was very attentive to 
me. He left some opium pills for me to take. I could 
not then swallow a pill, but it being cherry-time, I sug- 
gested that if they would remove the stone from a cherry 
and put the pill in its place, I could swallow it readily, 
which was done. But the skin of the cherry prevented 
the stomach from acting on the pill, and it produced no 
effect whatever, so that I passed a very painful and sleep- 
less night. The doctor prescribed long cotton bandages 



for my ankles, and that water should be pumped on them 
for ten or fifteen minutes every day, previous to their be- 
ing bandaged. This was a very painful operation. The 
cold well-water falling on my ankles caused them to ache 
exceedingly. After continuing this treatment about three 
weeks, an old colored woman came by while we were so 
engaged, and said, " You kill dat chile — pumping cold 
water so long on his sore feet ; let him set on de board 
over de creek, and hole his feet in de runnin' water, and 
his ankles soon git well." This speech pleased me greatly. 
Her prescription was followed, and I was carried daily to 
the creek, instead of to the pump, and my feet and ankles 
were held in the running stream. They began to gain 
strength immediately, so that in about another week I was 
able to walk a little on crutches, and to return to Nathan 
Lukens's. My back still hurt me, however, but I grad- 
ually improved, and got so that I could sit up and churn, 
and plait straw for hats, and do many little things for Ma- 
tilda, so that I felt I was not in the way. 

Soon after I returned, Nathan's sister Agnes came to 
stay with them a while, and Joseph Lukens (brother of 
Dr. Samuel Lukens, of Sandy Spring), and his wife Eliz- 
abeth, who was a sister of Isaac Briggs, came to board 
with them a few months* Joseph and Elizabeth had just 
returned from a visit to Sandy Spring and Baltimore, and 
brought home some chinquapins, the first I ever saw, and 
a smart, active colored boy. They told about the elder 
Roger Brooke having a pack of hounds and going fox- 
hunting, and of the Patuxent river being so small that at 
times a man could jump across it, while my idea of a 
river was obtained from the size of the Delaware and 
Schuylkill at Philadelphia. They told also of a Balti- 



more dinner at Yearly Meeting time being " ham and cab- 
bage/ ' while a Philadelphia dinner was roast beef and 
sweet potatoes. All these things interested me very much, 
and made my confinement to the house more pleasant. 
They were very nice people! Everybody loved them. 
They had sold their place to Xathaniel Richardson before 
thev left for Maryland, and they were now intending to 
settle in Philadelphia. 

One day, while we were at dinner, Xathan came home 
with his shoulder dislocated. Poor Matilda turned as pale 
as a corpse. Joseph immediately got up, called for some 
napkins, got me to help him, and had the shoulder in 
place in a short time, when Xathan joined us in finishing 
our dinner. 

An incident had occurred just before I was hurt that I 
neglected to mention, and I will do it here. 

Word was given out that a clergyman from Philadel- 
phia, a colored man, would hold a meeting at Loller 
Academy on First-day afternoon. I obtained permission 
to go. The house was full. On the bench immediately in 
front of the preacher's desk were some half dozen persons 
who had come with the manifest intention of causing a 
disturbance. One of them had on an imitation of specta- 
cles, cut out of sole-leather ; he had these low on his nose, 
and, with his arms folded across his breast, stared over 
them at the preacher, who did not seem to notice him. 
The disorder occasioned by him and his associates seemed 
to be spreading and engrossing general attention, when the 
preacher stopped, straightened himself up amidst a pro- 
found silence, and, in a calm, distinct voice, said, "We 
need not be discouraged by such things as we now sorrow- 
fully observe ; they are nothing new ; for we read of old, 
when the children of God were gathered together " (raising 



his voice and shaking his long finger at the leather-spec- 
tacled man) " Satan was there also." He then resumed his 
discourse, with the closest attention of the congregation, 
during which the disturbers slipped quietly out, and we 
had a solemn, good meeting ; the better, probably, from 
the power the preacher had evinced in the severe and mer- 
ited reprimand he had given at the commencement of his 
discourse; from the calm manner in which it was done, 
and the manifest effect it had had on them, we all felt its 
power. I have since heard Clay, Randolph, Webster, 
Calhoun, McDume, Burgess, and Benton, all powerful in 
severity when occasion required it, but I have never wit- 
nessed anything like the power and telling effect of the 
quotation from Job on this company. 

As soon as I was able to get about pretty well on my 
crutches, I wanted to go down to Pleasant Valley to see 
uncle Comly and aunt Sally. It seems a little remark- 
able, with the distinctness of my recollection of other in- 
cidents, I cannot remember at all how I got down there. 
But I did get there, with my crutches, and never returned, 
except to go up when strong enough (which I remember 
well) to get some things that I had left, and to bid fare- 
well to the family, it being thought I was such a cripple 
that I would never be able to resume work at my trade. 

Uncle Comly, aunt Sally, and their niece Amelia were 
particularly kind to me, and seemed pleased to have me 
back. I could do many little things sitting down, as shell 
corn, churn, and help in various ways, which it gave 
me pleasure to do. My ankles and back continuing so 
weak, it was thought I would never be strong enough for 
farm work, or any labor, and the idea was suggested that 
I should qualify myself for a teacher. Accordingly, as 
soon as I was able to walk so far, I commenced to go to 



school again at Abington, to Thomas Williams, my father's 
first cousin. He was a very nice young man about twenty- 
one, a Westtown scholar, and fond of literature and 
science. It was in his case, as it had been in Dr. Shoe- 
maker's, my first teacher, that at the earnest solicitation of 
the school-committee, he consented to take the school (his 
father living near on a good farm), and it was a blessing to 
the scholars that he did. 

He gave me a mathematical problem that I puzzled 
over for some time, continually, in my effort, becoming 
acquainted with some principle in geometry that I had 
not before known, and at length I succeeded in solving it, 
which pleased him very much. It was on a barrack of 
hay at his father's (I remember it all as if it were yester- 
day), where I showed him my solution, and he showed me 
another and neater way, which delighted me. 

I advanced in my studies, surveying, algebra, etc., etc., 
very pleasantly, and I now liked to go to school. I was a 
good speller and reader, but a very poor writer, which I 
partly attributed to the treatment I had received from a 
former teacher, who had some of us scholars who did not 
write well, to write two lines and take them to the teacher, 
holding the copy-book open, which I did tremblingly, and 
when he would get time to look at my book — the capital 
letters particularly — I would sometimes get a box on my 
ears, and at other times have to hold out my hand to have 
it paddled with a ruler. One or the other of these 
occurred almost every day. The scholar who sat by me, 
Thomas Paxson, who was older than I, had a daily 
difficulty about his "sums" in arithmetic, so we ulti- 
mate! v had a standing agreement that I was to do his 
sums and he to make my capital letters, and in that way 



we got along harmoniously with our teacher, if not so im- 
provingly to ourselves. 

But with Thomas Williams the school was delightful. 
His successor, Henry Twining, too, was a pleasant, good 
teacher. I never went to any school but Abington, till I 
went to John Gummere's when I was eighteen. The 
teachers I went to were in this order, in which they taught : 
Nathan Shoemaker, Benjamin Moore, his younger brother, 
Isaac W. Moore, Joseph Jacobs, John Cavender, Thomas 
Williams, Henry Twining, and for a short time, Thomas 
Paxson, who had been my former school-mate. 

In the early part of the summer of 1817, it was 
thought I ought to go to John Gummere's boarding- 
school, as a means of becoming better qualified for what 
was now looked to as my future avocation, that of teacher. 
The proposition for me to go to Burlington school origi- 
nated with my brother James, and was warmly supported 
by his wife, Amelia Bird Hallowell. But where were the 
means to come from to pay the expenses? James soon 
solved that problem. As already stated, grandfather had 
bequeathed to my mother in 1811, eighty dollars a year. 
By economy, she had managed to add enough to it, out of 
what uncle Samuel paid her, to put one hundred dollars 
annually at interest. James immediately proposed that 
sufficient of this money at interest should be taken to keep 
me at John Gummere's school a year, and provide me with 
clothes, to which mother cheerfully consented, as she often 
said, " All I want with it is to assist my children." 

Now, I have often thought how things come round, as 
if the Unseen Hand of the Good Providence were guiding 
events, which I have no doubt whatever is the case. The 
kindness and generosity of my brother and his wife, in 
getting me to Burlington school, were the means of 



enabling me to take care of both their sons, and give them 
a good education, by which they were rendered well-known 
and useful citizens. 

As soon as all was fixed for me to go to Burlington, 
uncle Comly and aunt Sally went over to enter my name 
as a student. The school was then full, but they told 
uncle they would write to him in a few days to the care of 
Kimber & Sharpless, Philadelphia, informing him when 
there would be a vacancy. How^ w T ell I remember my 
feelings and the suspense, awaiting that letter ! At length 
it came, fixing the time, and uncle went with me punctu- 
ally, on the day named. We carried a large trunk, con- 
taining my books and clothes, from the steamboat wharf 
up to the school — one of us holding each handle. Uncle 
did not stay long after he had paid my, entrance fee. He 
bade me farewell, and left me, among entire strangers, and 
further from home than I had ever been before. Every- 
thing was new. I had never before been across the Dela- 
ware. It was on Seventh-day too, the very worst time to 
take a student to school ; the time seemed so long before 
I could get to work. But I well remember feeling some 
quiet self-respect, from a consciousness that when I got into 
school I would gain the respect of my classes and the 
approbation of my teachers, which proved to be eminently 
the case. 

John Gummere was lecturing in his course on natural 
philosophy, illustrating his subject by experiments (the 
first I had ever seen) with a large ' air-pump, electrical 
machine, magic-lantern, etc., etc., and his brother Samuel 
on chemistry, with the gases and the compound blow-pipe, 
of which I had never heard, and I was perfectly delighted, 
enraptured with the unfolding of what appeared to be a 
new lite, in a new world of great beauty, and filled with 



wonder and magnificence, of which before I had had no 
conception. And now, for the first time, I began to see 
that my fall from the ladder at Dr. Mitchell's barn, three 
and a half years before, was a " blessing in disguise ; " and 
although I have experienced much bodily suffering, and 
do to this day, from its effects, I am deeply grateful to the 
Good Father for giving such a turn to my life, as brought 
me into a better acquaintance with his w 7 orks, and a 
higher appreciation of "the true, the beautiful, and the 

Burlington was an improving place to me in more 
respects than in the school opportunities. The delightful 
walks on Green Bank along the shore of the Delaware 
river, and out Main and Broad streets, where were the fine 
residences of George Dillwyn and Elias Boudinot (author 
of " The Star in the East"), and others, surrounded by a 
great variety of flowers and ornamental shrubbery, the 
impress of all of which, it being new to me, and I of an 
age to appreciate it, was very favorable to my feelings and 
the culture of my higher nature. I well remember the 
thrill of delight I would experience in my rambles (which 
w r ere generally alone), when some new beauties, or sweet 
fragrance wafted from the flowers, would gratify and 
enliven the senses. 

I became very fond, too, of attending meeting, where 
were George Dillwyn, John Cox, and some half-dozen 
other ministers, of more than ordinary eminence, one or 
more of whom favored us with an interesting discourse at 
every meeting. 

'We all liked to hear George Dillwyn and John Cox, 
portions of whose discourses I remember to this day. One 
of George Dillwyn's has been so instructive to me through 
life, that I will here give it in nearly his own words ; he 



never said much at a time. " When I was a young man I 
" wrote a little book" (Dilhvyn's Reflections), "and in it 
"I put a little varse" (he spoke it very broad), "which con- 
tains the sum of the practical truth needed by man: 
' Do thy best and leave the rest/ " I was fond of poetry, 
and when he spoke of " a little verse," I fixed myself for 
remembering it, expecting it to be four lines, at least, and 
when it came out the simple " Do thy best and leave the 
rest," I felt almost provoked, but the solemnity and em- 
phasis with which it was delivered made a deep impres- 
sion, and the latter part of it, to "leave the rest" to the 
Good Father after we have " done the best " we could, 
has been a strength and encouragement through my life 

But the time came for me to leave Burlington. This 
was done with regret for two reasons. I had formed some 
very pleasant acquaintances among the students ; with 
Reynell Coates, Thomas Cook, David Ogden, Jesse Wilson, 
and others; and then I had no home to go to. 

I went to uncle Comly's, and spent my time there and 
at brother James's (being made cordially welcome at both 
places) for some weeks, but I was not yet strong enough to 
enter upon farm work, and the uncertainty of my being 
able to find anything to do to make a living weighed 
heavily upon my feelings. This was a trying period of my 
life, perhaps the most so I had then experienced. I would 
take a book and spend most of the day in the woods, read- 
ing and thinking. Things passed on in this way for some 
time, when one First-day, John R. Parry, from Westfield, 
New Jersey, a cousin of my mother's, was at meeting, and 
on seeing me, inquired who I was, and came to speak 
to me. 

I think, from what afterwards occurred, some one must 




have given him some account of me, and told him that I 
would like to find a school to teach, for two days after, he 
and Abraham Lippincott came to uncle Comly's and 
invited me to go over and take the Westfield school, then 
without a teacher. This proposition, as may be judged, I 
cheerfully accepted. I have often thought the " Unseen 
Hand " of the Good Father came to my aid in this emer- 
gency, by influencing the hearts of others in my favor, 
and cast my lines in pleasant places. 


Takes the Westfield school — Pleasant winter — Efforts to improve 
his handwriting — Applies for position of teacher at Fair 
Hill Boarding School — Meets school commissioners in Balti- 
more — Eeceives the appointment — Difficulties of journey 
to Fair Hill — Attends Sandy Spring meeting for first time 
— Duties and responsibilities — Lonely walks and poetical 
address to the Cedar — Death of Anna Thomas — Meets 
Margaret E. Farquhar for the first time — Reminiscences 
of Samuel Thomas — Sickness of Samuel Thomas — Goes 
home on a visit — Sad experiences — Death of his brother 
James — His sister Mary returns with him to Fair Hill — 
Death of Samuel Thomas — Trying times for the school — 
Deborah Stabler' s assistance — Mournful thoughts — Poem. 

I went to Westfield that same week, the fall of 1818, 
when I was a little over nineteen. It was the Monthly 
Meeting school that I was placed in charge of, and I was 
under a nice committee of men and women Friends. For 
a short time I boarded with Abraham and Abigail Lip- 
pincott, near the school-house and meeting-house, and after- 



wards at John R. Parry's, whose wife Letitia was a sister 
of Oliver H. Smith, of Indiana, who married my first 
cousin, Mary Brumfield. I passed a very pleasant and 
improving winter, and continued the school (which was 
large, sometimes having as many as eighty scholars of 
both sexes, some young men and women older than 
myself), till the summer vacation. Charles Lippincott 
came to study surveying, and when the school was 
large he assisted me for his schooling, and I found him a 
very efficient assistant and pleasant companion. Mary 
Smith, Letitia's sister, was also a pleasant companion at 

I felt now that I was doing something for myself, and 
the kindness of the Friends where I boarded and others in 
the neighborhood, and the respectful manner in which I 
was treated by them, all made a very favorable impres- 

The residence of John R. Parry, with whom I boarded, 
was about a mile from the school-house, with a pine woods 
almost the entire distance, through which was a foot-path. 
It was my practice to spend my evenings at the school- 
house, pursuing my studies, reading, etc., and walk home 
about nine o'clock through these pines, which was a source 
of great enjoyment to me, especially the "green pines' 
waving top " and the shadow it made by moonlight. My 
friends with whom I boarded felt an apprehension that I 
might be waylaid and robbed of my watch, but I enter- 
tained no fear, and was never disturbed. 

At the close of school I parted from these kind and 
valued friends, those with whom I had boarded, the school 
committee and others, with reluctance. I felt that I had 
developed very much within the two years just past, and 
that a new world had been opened to me. 



As I have before stated in this memoir, I was very 
deficient in my handwriting, and I resolved to use the first 
money I had earned in an endeavor to improve it. Ac- 
cordingly I went to Philadelphia, and entered the cele- 
brated writing-school of Benjamin Rand, boarding with 
Ann Burr and her mother, where I was pleasantly situated. 
I kept up a correspondence with some of my Burlington 
schoolmates, David Ogden, of Swedesborough, New Jersey, 
and Jesse R. Wilson, of Loudoun county, Virginia, and 
with my sister Mary, who was a scholar at Westtown 

About the time my term of writing expired, in the 
early fall of 1819, 1 received a letter from Jesse R. Wilson, 
who was then teaching a school in Alexandria, Virginia, 
advising me to apply for the situation of teacher in Fair 
Hill boarding-school, then recently opened, which I did, 
accompanying my application with a letter of recom- 
mendation from Charles Shoemaker, who had once lived 
in Occoquan, and w T hom the committee all knew ; also, one 
from the school-committee of Westfield, where I had 
taught the previous winter. My letter was addressed, by 
Jesse's advice, to Samuel Thomas, superintendent, who 
made a very respectful reply, and invited me to meet the 
school-committee in Baltimore, at the time of the then en- 
suing Yearly Meeting. This I informed him I would do, 
and accordingly, a week or more before the time of the 
Yearly Meeting, I went down to Alexandria to make a visit 
to Jesse, whose company was very congenial to me, as 
I believe mine was to him. I boarded with Mahlon 
Schofield* (Andrew's brother and William and Ann 
Scofield and Elizabeth Hopkins's father), at the upper end 

*Now spelt Scofield. 



of King street, which was in that day thronged with four 
and six-horse wagons. Jesse introduced me to a number 
of Friends, the widow Hartshorne and her family, Friend 
Wanton, George S. Hough, Rachel Painter, who taught 
school there, and several others. This was my first 
acquaintance with Alexandria, and I found it a very 
agreeable place. When I was going to Alexandria, I 
stopped all night in Washington, and as I was walking by 
the President's house in the evening (James Monroe being 
President), there was a most brilliant display of the 
Aurora Borealis, the first I ever saw, and I was willing to 
interpret it as an omen in my favor. On my way back 
from Alexandria to Baltimore, I spent some time in Wash- 
ington city, and happened to fall in with a person from the 
south, at the " Indian Queen " (now Brown's) hotel, who 
seemed to take a liking to me, and was going in a hack 
around to the Capitol, Navy Yard, and other places of 
interest, where he had been well acquainted a few years 
before, and he invited me to accompany him as his guest, 
which I cheerfully did. It was a day of great interest and 
instruction to me. Under his guidance I saw a vast 
amount that was new. Among others of the notables, he 
pointed out to me General Jackson on horseback, the out- 
line of whose tall, spare form I have with me to this day. 

There was one incident with my new acquaintance 
(whose name I am unable to recall), which I have always 
been surprised at, when the remembrance of it has come 
before me. In the evening he invited me to take a place 
in his bed, which I accepted. As we were preparing to get 
into bed, he showed me a belt around his body in which he 
carried his money, and it then contained a great many 
thousand dollars. He was a Southern merchant going 
North to pay debts and buy goods. What induced him to 



show his money, and where he kept it, I never could 
imagine. But all was safe when we arose. The next 
morning we set off together in the stage for Baltimore. 
General Winder, who had been in the battle of Bla- 
densburg, was in the stage, and my friend, who knew the 
General, though the General did not know him, re- 
vived some reminiscences of the battle as we passed the 
battle-ground, which it was evident the General would be 
glad should be forgotten, as for instance bullet-holes in 
the top of a high house, shot by the American soldiers at 
the British when they were crossing the bridge. 

We reached Baltimore, and I met the school committee 
at Elias Ellicott's (I think it was). There were Edward 
Stabler, Gerard T. Hopkins, Samuel Thomas, Isaac Tyson, 
and several others present. They asked me very few ques- 
tions ; seemed well satisfied with my recommendations, 
especially with that of Charles Shoemaker, which was 
pretty full, and told of my having been at John Gum- 
mere's school. It appeared to me that they left the deci- 
sion of the case very much to Samuel Thomas, the superin- 
tendent. I remember Edward Stabler's saying emphati- 
cally in the committee, that if I was appointed teacher, 
he would send his son Robinson, who was then well-grown. 

It was ultimately concluded that I was to enter on duty 
at Fair Hill, on the 1st of the Twelfth month, then ensuing, 
as mathematical teacher, that being the time fixed for the 
girls' school to open, under Margaret Judge. Samuel 
Myers was the teacher already there, under whom the 
school had been opened, on the 1st of the preceding Fifth 
month, 1819. 

In the latter part of the Eleventh month, 1819, I left 
my old neighborhood at Cheltenham, Montgomery county, 



Pennsylvania, for Fair Hill, Montgomery county, Mary- 

My expenses for board and schooling in Philadelphia, 
and getting a suitable outfit for my new home, and some 
books, as Cowper's and Ossian's Poems, of David Allison, 
in Burlington, had pretty much exhausted my savings 
at Westfield, and I borrowed twenty-five dollars from bro- 
ther James, to pay my expenses, for which I gave my note, 
with interest. 

On arriving at Baltimore I went to Isaac Tyson's to 
inquire how I should get to Fair Hill. M Why/' said he, 
" there is no way ; it is. the most out-of-the-way place in 
the world." I felt much discouraged, which perhaps he 
perceived. He walked the room for some time, seemingly 
in deep thought, and then sat down and wrote a letter to 
Samuel Snowden, of Indian Spring, which he read to me, 
telling who I was, and asking him to assist me in getting to 
Fair Hill. He then told me to take the letter to Samuel 
Snowden, who lived not far from the hotel he named, where 
the stage stopped, and Samuel would take or send me 
up, a distance of fourteen or fifteen miles. This I at once 
felt, but did not say, I could not do. I took the letter, 
thanking him for his kindness, but resolved to make further 
inquiry at the stage office, to ascertain whether I could not 
get there by public conveyance. I found a person who 
seemed to know all about the country. He told me to take 
the stage to Washington, and that a stage went from there 
to Rockville, which was near Fair Hill. On this advice I 
paid my fare to Washington and took my seat in the stage, 
but did not feel quite easy. 

We stopped to change horses at a hotel, near where 
Laurel is now, and seeing a company of men, I made known 
to them my situation, where I wished to go, and what I had 



been advised to do. They appeared to know the country, 
and said I would be nearly as far from Fair Hill when 
I got to Rockville as I then was, after a stage travel of 
nearly thirty miles. There was but little time to delibe- 
rate, so I explained the matter to the driver, who seemed 
interested in my favor, had my trunk taken off, and kindly 
returned me the difference between the fare to Washington 
and to that place. 

In the little time I had to decide to have my trunk 
taken off the stage, I never thought to inquire whether I 
could find a conveyance to take it and me the fourteen 
miles I still wished to go, and I was greatly disappointed 
and surprised to find there was no such thing as a carriage 
or carryall to be had in that neighborhood. It was Sev- 
enth-day afternoon, and that was wearing fast away. I was 
greatly perplexed, but at length a man said he had a horse 
and cart that would take my trunk, and I could either 
ride or walk, as I chose, and he would send a boy to take 
me and my trunk for five dollars. It seemed the only 
thing I could do, so I accepted his terms. He said the boy 
knew the way. I urged him to get us off soon. He 
started off on his horse in a gallop (I can see him yet lean- 
ing forward, his feet dangling below the little horse's body)^ 
but it was nearly sunset before he came back with the horse 
and cart and a colored boy, who looked to be about fifteen. 
The boy had but one line to his horse, and it was truly a 
very poor and unsightly outfit. But I paid the man his 
five dollars, and we set off, I walking. It soon became 
dark, when I found the boy was uncertain about the road, 
it being through old fields and pine bushes, and no house 
to be seen, or person of whom to inquire. Soon our road 
led to a stream, which I suppose was the Patuxent. The 
boy wanted to cross it. I told him I was confident from 



the directions I heard his master give him, that we were 
not to cross so large a stream. He took my advice not to 
cross it. and wound his way deviously through pine bushes 
and old fields a long time, which seemed longer probably 
from the uncertainty in regard to our making any way to- 
wards the place I desired to reach, till at length, near 
nine o'clock, I saw a light in a house not far from the road, 
the first house we had seen since we set off on this journey, 
and we had not seen a single person. I went up to in- 
quire the way. It proved to be William Thomas's, and I 
was rejoiced to find that we were within three or four miles 
of Fair Hill, with a good plain road leading to it, so that 
there was no danger of getting lost again. The person I 
saw there told me how to know Fair Hill when I came to 
it. I called at Sandy Spring store as I went by, to have 
my instructions about the road renewed and confirmed. 

It was near ten o'clock when I arrived at Fair Hill. 
Samuel Thomas was the only one of the family up, and he 
was just about retiring. The boy assisted me to carry my 
trunk in, and Samuel showed him where to put his horse 
and find feed for it. I was very tired, but I felt brightened 
up on seeing a person I had met before, so, after explaining 
" the journey of the day," and why I came in that style, 
all of which, from knowing the place where the stage had 
stopped, and the country between, he seemed fully to com- 
prehend, I was glad to retire. 

The next morning (First-day), we all met at the break- 
fast-table, there being two tables. Samuel Thomas sat at 
the end of one of them and his wife at the other end. He 
placed me at the other table, near him, to his left, Mar- 
garet Judge being opposite to me ; then the scholars filled 
up the other part of the tables. 

As was customary at the school, breakfast was taken 



without conversation ; then there was a silence, after which 
the scholars left two by two. I was pleased with the order. 
When they had all gone I walked to the other end of the 
table to shake hands with the women Friends. Such was 
my introduction to Fair Hill, which is all distinct in my 

A little incident occurred on this First-day, that I 
think it proper to relate, as illustrative of the characters of 
both Samuel Thomas and myself. We had some free, pleas- 
ant conversation before meeting, and when meeting time 
came, we set off, Anna Thomas and Margaret Judge on the 
back seat, and I by Samuel on the front seat. When we 
went into meeting he showed me where to sit, under the 
gallery next the women, facing the meeting (where Robert 
R. Moore sits now), and, to my surprise, he went up into 
the gallery, and after a little while, to my still greater sur- 
prise, he arose and preached ! I had always had a pro- 
found reverence for preachers, there never having been 
one with w T hom I was well acquainted, and my feelings 
were much solemnized. I looked carefully over all the 
conversation we had had to see if there had been anything 
too free and light. 

In this condition of mind, I took my seat by him in the 
carriage to return to Fair Hill, when, after riding a 
little way, he suddenly clapped his hand on my knee, and 
said, "How did thee like the sermon?" What reply I 
made, I know not, but, after the shock it occasioned was 
over, his genial manner, consideration for my situation, and 
kindness of heart, gained my fullest confidence. 

It was about the same time of year that I had entered 
Burlington school as a scholar, that I now, two years after, 
entered Fair Hill as a teacher, and w T hat great changes had 
occurred in the intervening two years ! 




I felt lonely at Fair Hill. My associate teacher, Samuel 
Myers, was a married man, and at all spare time was with 
his family at Sandy Spring. Of all the inmates of the 
large family, or of the inhabitants of the neighborhood, 
Samuel Thomas was the only one I had ever seen before I 
went there to live. The duties and responsibilities that I 
felt to be resting upon me, in the care and instruction of 
the scholars, several of whom were older than myself, 
seemed heavy, almost to oppression ! With feelings such 
as this state of things was calculated to produce, I used to 
wander through the fields and woods in the evening after 
dark, or sit alone in my school-room. 

When I walked out, my favorite resort was a thick 
clump of bushes, in the centre of which stood a large cedar, 
at whose foot I passed many hours in thoughtful, and I 
have reason to hope not unprofitable, reflection. Some time 
afterwards I learned that this venerable cedar was the 
centre of the former private burying-ground of the Dorsey 
family, who had owned the property, and whose remains 
were mouldering into dust around it. It was to this cedar 
I wrote, in 1820, an " Address," which was published in 
1821 (in the second volume of the " Rural Visitor," page 
226), by David Allison, in Burlington, New Jersey. Some 
one has torn the leaf containing the " Address" out of my 
copy of the Visitor, and I can give from memory only the 
opening and closing lines : 

I to the cedar sing, whose dark green boughs, 
Extending wide into the open field, 
And, as with melancholy stooping low, 
Wave in the breezes o'er the slumbering dead. 
Thou first received my notice, as I strayed 
At evening's stillness through the lonely fields, 
With thoughts contemplating a future life, 
And various scenes that troubled us in this ; 



Till by thy beauty, viewed at distance, led 
T 7 approach still nearer thy majestic height, 
(Not knowing, then, what lowly lay beneath), 
I found thy shade congenial to my mind. 

Yes, sombre cedar, when I pass thee by, 
Or morn, or noon, or in my evening walks, 
May'st thou e'er bid me think, life soon will pass, 
And I, if not beneath thy outstretched arms, 
Will somewhere else a bed of earth demand, 
That thus I may be blessed my life to pass, 
Pleasing to God, and gainful to my soul. 

The following four lines were written about the same 
time under similar feeling : 

Soothed with the pleasing calm of solitude, 
To lonely valleys, woods, and wilds I stray, 

Where naught disturbs my contemplative mood, 
And hours, as moments, pass improved away. 

I have ever since regarded it as an unspeakable favor, 
in which I have often thought the guidance of the Unseen 
Hand was manifested, that so early in life, I had the wise 
counsels, pure example, and religious influence of those 
three precious Friends and devoted servants of the Most 
High, Samuel and Anna Thomas, and Margaret Judge. 
They were much beloved by the inmates of the family, 
teachers, scholars, and domestics. 

The winter of 1819-20 passed on pretty pleasantly. 
We had a good many nice students, David Brow T n, J ohn 
Smith, Henry S. Taylor, Thomas Stabler, and Samuel 
Peebles, all older than myself, and Robert Crew, George 
Winston, Isaac Briggs, Artemus Newlin, Robinson and 
Thomas Stabler, and others about my own age; all was 
harmonious and pleasant. 



But soon this happy condition of things was broken. 
In the latter part of the winter 1819-20, dear Anna 
Thomas was attacked in the night with paralysis. She had 
collected with the boys on the previous evening, First-day, 
and had spoken to them very impressively. Her husband 
was in Baltimore, attending Quarterly Meeting. A little 
after midnight, Margaret Judge called me to go over to 
Brooke Grove to get some one to go to Baltimore for 
Samuel, which I did, and he arrived before sunset that 
evening. She lingered under the effects of the stroke 
until relieved by death on the 19th of Fifth month, 1820. 
This was a great blow to the school and to all its inmates, 
and especially to her loved and devoted husband. She 
was a lovely woman, and the life of her husband seemed 
buried in her grave. He attended to his duties, but never 
seemed the same man afterwards. To him the light of the 
outer world seemed extinguished. 

In the spring of 1821, the girls' school increased so 
much that another female teacher was needed, and the 
committee obtained Margaret E. Farquhar to fill the situa- 
tion, and take part of the scholars in a separate room. 
She had been to the school on a visit during the preced- 
ing winter, and she and her cousin Mary Briggs (now 
Mary B. Brooke) came into my school-room to see the 
"new teacher." On their leaving the room, Margaret 
said to her cousin, " He is no beauty, anyhow." 

Samuel Myers, who had accepted the situation only 
temporarily, then leaving, Charles Farquhar, Margaret's 
brother, was appointed in his place. They both entered 
upon duty as teachers at the same time, about the 1st of 
Third month, 1821. The school was well filled, and every- 
thing appeared to be proceeding satisfactorily and har- 



I have already mentioned an incident illustrative of 
the character of Samuel Thomas, which was an original 
one. I have never since met with one like it ; open, deep ? 
philosophical, social, and profoundly religious. He would 
frequently come into the upper parlor when I was there 
alone, and enter into conversation. One day he said, 
" Benjamin, I was a Methodist preacher once " (he talked 
very fast), " and on one occasion I rose and preached, and 
the words flowed to my astonishment, and I preached with 
such power that I felt sure I had preached some persons to 
heaven. After I sat down, I thought I could see where I 
could mend it, and I stood up and preached and preached 
and preached, till I felt sure I had preached them back 
again. Why," said he (putting the ends of his thumbs 
and fore-fingers together, forming a ring on each hand), 
" the two sermons would not fit together any more than 
two rings or links " (rubbing the rings he had formed 
together). " Ah," said he, " it is a great thing to learn 
to let ' well done ' alone ; by attempting to mend it you 
spoil it." 

Another time he came in and sat by the front window. 
After a little time he said, " Benjamin, if a person blusters 
or gets angry, when an opinion is expressed different from 
his, it is certain evidence that he is not sure he is right. 
If he knows he is right himself, he may feel pity for the 
other's ignorance, but he would have no feeling of anger 
or displeasure. To illustrate : Yonder is a peach-tree ; I 
have just eaten a peach which I pulled from it. If I 
point to it, and tell a man that it is a peach-tree, and he 
contradicts me, and says it is an apple-tree, it may pro- 
voke a feeling of commiseration for his positiveness and 
ignorance, but nothing like hostility or anger." 

On another occasion, he sat down and said, " Benjamin, 



I once owned slaves. I thought I could not get along 
without them. After a time, it was impressed upon my 
mind, that I ought to set one man free. He had served 
me faithfully. I put it away, — he was the very one I could 
not spare. It would come up again — kept me awake — I 
could find no peace — the wakefulness night after night 
increased. One morning I got up before day, having slept 
none, rode down to Annapolis, brought home the man's 
6 freedom papers told him he had served me long and 
faithfully, and giving him his papers, informed him that 
he was now free. Benjamin/ ' (stroking his hands over the 
region of his heart), " I did feel so comfortable, and I slept 
that night. A few months after my mind became troubled 
in the same way about another slave, a woman, and I had 
to pass over the same ground again, and found no relief 
till I went to Annapolis and brought home and delivered 
to her her ' freedom papers / then I did feel relieved, and 
thought the work was all accomplished, but in this I was 
mistaken. It kept on in the same way, one at a time, 
until I had liberated six or eight, all but one boy about 
sixteen. He, I thought, certainly would be left to me, and 
I was confirmed in this opinion by my feeling no uneasi- 
ness for a longer period than on either of the other occa- 
sions. At length symptoms began to appear. I resisted 
them, thought I could not spare him ; he slept near my 
room ; saddled my horse ; w T aited on the table. I could 
not spare him. With such reasonings I could keep it off 
in the day time, while I was blustering about, but at night 
the thought of him and his bondage and his uncertain 
condition if I should die, would come and take away my 
sleep and my peace. So one morning before daylight, I 
started down to Annapolis and got his 'freedom papers/ and 
gave them to him. Then, Benjamin, I did feel confortable, 



and have never had any slave sickness since. How kind 
the Good Father was, in not laying all this burden on me 
at once, which in all probability would have crushed me, 
but he just moved in it gradually, as I was able to bear it, 
and I cannot express how grateful I now am to him for 
the blessing and favor." 

As already stated, the happy condition of things at 
Fair Hill was soon to be broken. It was decided that I 
was to take my two weeks' vacation about the middle of 
the Ninth month, and I had looked forward to this, my 
first visit home, with great interest and the anticipation of 
much pleasure, particularly in seeing my brother James, 
and my mother, who was then living with him and his 
wife Amelia ; also in seeing uncle Comly and aunt 

Deborah Stabler, whom the committee had appointed 
in Anua Thomas's place, gave me what assistance I needed 
in getting ready. 

Before the time arrived for me to go, Samuel Thomas 
was taken seriously ill with bilious fever. I had written 
to my relatives that I expected to get to Philadelphia on 
Seventh-day evening, but Samuel Thomas was so ill that it 
w T as thought best for me not to leave. He seemed to like 
me to sit up with him, which I did the greater part of 
three nights. He quoted portions of the Psalms almost 
continually. He repeated the tenth verse of the 90th 
Psalm with great emphasis : " The days of our years are 
threescore years and ten ; and if, by reason of strength, 
they be fourscore years, yet is their strength, labor and 
sorrow; for it is soon cut off and we fly away." His 
quotations and expressions were all encouraging and hope- 
ful, yet resigned to whatever way his sickness might termi- 
nate ; though, if it accorded with the Divine will, it seemed 



to be his choice to follow his beloved wife to the land of 

On First-day night he seemed better, and it was thought 
I might venture to set off on my vacation on Second-day 
morning, which I did. I arrived in Philadelphia on 
Third-day morning, when I immediately (there being no 
stage running out at that time of day) walked out to uncle 
Comly's, nine miles from the w T harf. I found aunt Sally 
in the house as usual, but soon there seemed to be some- 
thing the matter. She told me uncle was at the barn. I 
went there, and when he saw me he burst into tears ! As 
soon as he could compose himself, he told me how very 
sick my dear brother was. James, he said, had gone to 
Philadelphia to meet me on Seventh-day, although not 
then well, and had stayed till nearly dark, when the last 
Baltimore boat arrived for that day, and I was not there, 
which was a great disappointment to him. 

I endeavored to comfort dear uncle, and told him I 
hoped James would soon be better. " Ah/' said he, " thee 
does not know his condition, nor how ill he is ;" and he 
proposed that we should go up to Shoemakertown and see 
him and the others, which we did. Dear mother met me 
in tears, but said nothing. Sister Amelia said, " Ah, 
brother, if thee had come on Seventh-day as we expected, 
how glad we would have been ! James did want to see 
thee so much/' I tried to encourage them to hope for the 
best, and sister Amelia and uncle went with me to his 
room. I found him under a high fever, talking inces- 
santly in wild delirium. He knew me ; called me by 
name, and asked me why I did not come on Seventh-day. 
He said he was going to die. I told him I hoped not. He 
looked me sternly and inquiringly in the face, and said, 
" Is thee willing to die for me?" I could not say I was. 



I found what dear uncle had told me was correct. I did 
not know how ill he was, nor his condition ; so restless, 
talking so loudly, and not being able to sleep at all. 

In a few days, perhaps a week, he died. Two young 
men had offered to come and sit up the night before the 
burial. I told the family, who were all worn out, to go to 
bed, and I would remain with him till the young men came. 
The family retired. There was to be ice and camphor put 
on some parts of the body every hour through the night. 
From some misunderstanding, the young men did not come 
(for which they afterwards expressed great regret), and I 
remained with him alone, attending to these services all 
night, and it was a night of great thoughtfulness and 
solemnity to me. He was buried the next day, in the 
grave-yard at Abington meeting house. I turned from his 
grave with a heavy heart. A kinder brother no man ever 
had. He was buried toward the latter part of the Ninth 
month, 1820, and his second son, who was born the follow- 
ing First month, was named James S., after his father. 

The time of my vacation expired before his funeral, 
and I wrote to Fair Hill that I would be delayed two or 
three days in getting home, and explained to them the 
reason. I had thought a great deal about Samuel Thomas 
in the two weeks that had elapsed since I left him, but 
there being then but one mail a week between Sandy 
Spring and Philadelphia, I heard nothing from him, but 
hoped he was better. 

It was concluded that my sister Mary should return 
with me and enter Fair Hill school as a scholar, although 
she had been at Westtown a year. On our way down the 
Chesapeake at night, our boat ran aground in a great rain 
storm, which alarmed the persons in the ladies' cabin very 
much. They, understanding that Mary had a brother on 



board, sent her to inquire of me what was the matter. I 
saw that she was somewhat alarmed, and wishing to indi- 
cate by my answer, that I thought there was no danger, I 
told her to tell her companions we had stopped out of the 

We arrived safe in Baltimore the next morning, and I 
hired a hack to take us to Fair Hill. When we got a little 
beyond Ellicott's Mills, from Baltimore, we met a hack with 
Gerard T. Hopkins and some others in it, who told me that 
Samuel Thomas was dead, and they were just returning 
from his funeral. This intelligence seemed almost more 
than I could bear. I was never more to see that noble face. 
He was one of the best men I ever knew, and one of the 
kindest friends I ever had, and the main support of the 
discipline of the school. He died on the 30th of the 
Ninth month, 1820, aged about fifty-five years. (See in 
Friends' Miscellany, Vol. 6, pp. 130 and 133, the memo- 
rials of Anna Thomas and of Samuel Thomas). 

We arrived safe at Fair Hill and met with a cordial 
reception. They all seeme 1 glad to have me back again to 
assist in bearing the increased duties and responsibilities 
which these severe and mysterious dispensations imposed 
upon the teachers, and which brought them all into a feel- 
ing of lasting unity and near sympathy, which nothing but 
death could dissolve. 

These were trying and sad times for the school. The 
heads of both the girls' department and the boys' depart- 
ment, being thus removed in the very infancy of the in- 
stitution, only a year and five months after it was first 
opened, was a great shock to it, and a break upon all 
the arrangements of the concern. 

As already stated, after the death of Anna Thomas, 
that valued Friend, Deborah Stabler, whom we all loved. 



consented, on invitation of the committee, to take her 
place temporarily, as superintendent of the girls' depart- 
ment, which was a great comfort and strength to us all. 

The duty had several times devolved upon me, at 
that early age, to sit head of the meeting on the men's 
side, in Samuel Thomas's absence, and I felt the weight 
and responsibility of the position, under which the desire 
was that I might be favored with right qualification 
The impress was favorable. 

Philip Dennis, who owned the farm where Koger 
Brooke, jr., lived and died, was invited by the committee 
to take • charge of the farm and out-door affairs. In 
Deborah Stabler we men teachers found a wise and safe 
counsellor ; and although we felt deeply the loss that we 
and the school had sustained, and had it brought daily 
to our remembrance, when we needed advice or assistance, 
yet we still got along very comfortably and harmoni- 
ously through the fall and winter. I spent a good deal 
of my time in my school-room (which was in the north- 
west corner of the main building), especially in the even 
ings, when the remembrance of the loss of my dear 
brother would come before me, in seeming harmony with 
the dirges of the winds around the house. It was at 
this time (winter of 1820-21), that I wrote the following 
stanzas, which were published in the " Kural Visitor " in 
1821, volume 2, page 206 : 

I love, at eve, the solemn moan, 

Of winds, as 'round my walls they're blown, 

'Tis music of the loveliest tone 

Of all I know 
It minds me of the time that's gone, 

Long, long ago ! 



Once blessed with friends, with hope, with peace, 
Each day beheld my joys increase, 
Delights, I thought, would never cease 

Eound me to flow ; — 
But they to care and grief gave place, 

Long, long ago ! 

I saw my kindred round me fall, 

My brother mantled in his pall, 

Then deemed terrestrial things were all 

An empty show : — 
I'll fit me for the heavenly hall, 

And to them go. 

The first three lines of the second stanza have refer- 
ence to the latter part of the time I lived at grand- 
father's, which was the most free and happy portion of 
my life. 


The wren's nest — Books read at Fair Hill — Resignation as 
teacher — Return to Pleasant Valley — Anecdote of Fair 
Hill — Visit to John Gummere, where congenial occupation 
is found — Applies for situation at Westtown and is ac- 
cepted — Visit to relatives — Reflections — Introduced to 
future scholars — A stroke of diplomacy — Successful man- 
agement of unruly student — Anecdote of the key — Read- 
ing Addison's Spectator — A small legacy and the use made 
of it. 

In the spring of 1821 I frequently sat at the west 
front window, in the upper parlor, when there would be 
nobody else there, and noticed a wren was building its 



nest on the string-piece that supported the lower end 
of the rafters over the front porch, and having nothing 
to light on, it found great difficulty in accomplishing its 
undertaking. Margaret E. Farquhaf* (my future wife) 
observed the trouble it daily had, and either at her sug- 
gestion, or voluntarily, I cannot now remember which, I 
nailed half a flat ruler for the wren's accommodation, 
which ruler is still there. The bird seemed to enjoy the 
convenience, and it was a comfort to me to see how much 
it was aided by it. 

During the time I was at Fair Hill, I read Clarkson's 
" History of the Abolition of the Slave Trade," which I 
found very interesting ; his " Portraiture of Quakerism," 
tljen recently published, several copies of which were pre- 
sented to the school ; " The Mountain Muse," from the 
Brookeville library, by Daniel Bryan, whom I afterwards 
knew favorably at Alexandria ; and Cowper's Poems in 
three volumes, Ossian's Poems in two volumes, and some 
other books, which I bought at David Allison's, in Bur- 
lington, and have yet, they having been my companions 
in my various places of abode since. 

I kept on the best I could with my many duties, 
till the meeting of the committee in the Ninth month, 
when I believed it to be right and best, for various 
reasons, to resign my situation as teacher at Fair Hill, 
and look out for a home elsewhere, which I did. My 
resignation was accepted, of which Roger Brooke and 
Gerard T. Hopkins very respectfully and feelingly in- 
formed me, and I left the next morning. 

I felt my being again adrift in the world, having no 
place to which I could of right go. My brother was 
dead ; my mother had gone to keep house for uncle George 
Williams, my grandmother Hallowell's brother ; I had no 



home ! I knew, however, that I would always find a 
welcome with my valued uncle Comly and aunt Sally 
Shoemaker, who felt like father and mother to me, and 
where I knew ho% to make myself useful. I did not 
feel discouraged, for I had gained valuable^ experience, 
and I never doubted having done right in leaving Fair 
Hill. So I made my way to Pleasant Valley at once. 
Uncle did not quite like my giving up my place at Fair 
Hill, where I was getting four hundred dollars a year, 
but he was none the less kind, and soon became satisfied. 

One incident at Fair Hill I ought to mention for the 
instruction it contains, as well as to show the discern- 
ment and tact of superintendent McPherson. The boys 
had been noticed, for several days, to be very busily en- 
gaged beyond a clump of trees in the "bounds," but as 
there was nothing there that could be injured, no notice 
was taken of it. One day two students came running to 
the superintendent, almost out of breath, and said, " Oh, 
superintendent, the old sow is in a deep hole down in 
the ' bounds ;' come see." He went with them, and on 
arriving there, at once took in the whole situation. The 
animal would weigh some three hundred pounds, and the 
hole was five or six feet deep, so that it would be at- 
tended with no little difficulty to get her out. After 
reflecting a little time, he said, " Xow, boys, you have dug 
a grave for the old beast, now bury her." This was a 
grand idea for them. At it they went in fine glee, push- 
ing in the earth with spades, paddles, shingles, and those 
who could not obtain either of them pushing the earth 
in with their feet. But the old beast would not stay 
buried. As they put earth in the hole on her, she would 
rise above it, and when the grave was full she quietly 
walked out. This was all play to them. Had he ordered 



them to fill up the hole they had dug, in order that she 
might get out, this would have been work, and it would 
have been a long time in all probability, before it was 
accomplished. Everything can be moved if we touch the 
right spring. 

After visiting my mother and sister Amelia, and my 
two nephews, her children, I went to Burlington to see 
my highly esteemed teacher, John Gummere. He seemed 
truly glad to see me, and when I informed him I had 
left Fair Hill, and gave him a little statement of my 
reasons for doing so, which he could readily compre- 
hend, and in which he evidently sympathized with me, 
he said it would suit him exactly, for he was just in 
want of a good calculator to assist him with the Astronomy 
he was then writing. So, without going back to uncle's, 
I set right to work at astronomical calculations at Bur- 
lington, about a week after leaving Fair Hill. 

Very soon after this I received from George Ellicott, 
who had heard of my having left Fair Hill, an invita- 
tion to take the school at Ellicott's Mills, but the locality 
not harmonizing with my feelings, I thought best to de- 
cline, and did so in a respectful reply. 

My situation and occupation at Burlington suited me 
exactly. It was only temporary, to be sure, but from 
former experiences I had ground to hope that if I did my 
duty as I went along, some way would open for me. I 
occupied John Gummere's private study for my calculat- 
ing, where I abridged the " Solar Tables" of Delambres* 
for the " Tables of the Sun," in his treatise on Astronomy ; 
and the Lunar Tables of Burkhardt, for those of the 
Moon ; and calculated the " Tables of Second Differences ;" 
" Changes in Right Ascension," and many other tables, 
besides making most of the calculations of the problems in 



the Second Part. I worked nearly all day and until nine 
o'clock in the evening, which pleased John very much, for 
he was anxious to get his book out. 

While engaged in these problems of the Second Part, 
a little incident occurred that I 1 ave frequently thought of 
since, with interest. John went one morning with his 
family to Quarterly Meeting, at Crosswicks, some fifteen 
miles distant, above Burlington, and left me to calculate 
the parallax of the moon in longitude and latitude, which 
requires the finding of the longitude and altitude of the 
Xonagesimal degree, or the highest point of the ecliptic. 
This I was to do by a new rule he had formed. It is a long 
process, and I worked at it faithfully, and satisfied myself 
fully that there was something wrong in the rule. About 
three o'clock they returned, and John came immediately 
up into his study to see how his new rule worked, when I 
showed him the indications I had observed of something 
being wrong in the rule. He sat down by the fire without 
taking off his hat or surtout, or having any dinner, with 
my work and the rule before him, and, as was his habit in 
hard study, with his little finger hooked in his mouth, and 
thus remained for an hour or more. How plainly I can 
see his countenance and form yet, for I had nothing to do 
but to observe him ; and I loved him. 

At length he saw he had made a mistake in his rule by 
saying " take the difference" instead of " subtract such a 
quantity from such a quantity, adding twelve signs or a 
whole circle to the latter when necessary," and he was de- 
lighted. He then went to his dinner, while I made the 
calculations with his rule thus corrected, which I found to 
work right. There was not much of the calculation to 
alter, and it was quickly done. He soon returned, and was 
highly gratified. He said he would not have failed to de- 



tect that error, in time to have the correction inserted in 
the errata, for any consideration. The correction will be 
found in the errata, first edition, 1822, at the last of the 
book. The preface is dated Twelfth month 21st, 1821, 
about a month after I left him. 

Seth Smith, a particular friend of John Gummere's, 
haying given up his place as teacher at Westtown, to open 
a school of his own in Philadelphia, John Gummere ad- 
vised and encouraged me to apply for the situation, and 
said that he would give me a letter of recommendation to 
the Westtown Committee on Teachers. He gave a good 
many reasons in its favor, having himself been a teacher 
there ; the good society, the nice walks, opportunities for 
improvement, and the acquaintance it would lead to with 
many of the most interesting and valuable members of our 
religious society. I took his advice, made the application, 
and met the Committee on Teachers, in Philadelphia. It 
consisted of George Williams, Israel W. Morris, and 
Charles Townsend. I presented the recommendation J ohn 
had given me, and they told me they would inform me of 
the result of my application, soon after the General Com- 
mittee met, which would be in about a week. 

In the meantime Josiah Tatum and William Cooper 
came up to Burlington to invite me to take the Friends' 
school at Woodbury, Xew Jersey, the same school that 
Henry R. Russell now has. 

I told them of my application for the place Seth Smith 
had left at Westtown, but they wished me to go down and 
look at the place, so that I might be ready to decide, in 
case I did not get the appointment at Westtown, of which 
I was to know in a few days. This I consented to do, 
John Gummere offering to lend me his horse. 

I was very much pleased with things at Woodbury, 



where I spent the greater part of a day ; the Friends, the 
committee, the school-room, and the village or town. We 
talked matters over. There were some little things I 
would wish altered from what had been their arrangement, 
as, for instance, to have the reading-books furnished to the 
scholars, instead of each one having his own, so as to ad- 
mit of a better classification of the scholars, and giving 
them a greater variety of reading ; to which the committee 
cheerfully consented. I found it would be a nice place to 
live, too, in case I should wish to change my situation, to 
which my mind had been turned, having become engaged 
to be married to Margaret E. Farquhar before I left Fair 

Altogether, I felt almost a wish that my Westtown ap- 
plication might not be successful, but still hoped whatever 
was best might be. 

When I returned and told John how much I had been 
pleased, he said, " Yes, but Westtown would be the most 
desirable and improving place for thee," and I had great 
confidence in his judgment, particularly as he knew both 
places well. 

In the latter part of Eleventh month I was informed 
by the committee that I had been appointed teacher at 
Westtown, to enter upon duty on the 1st of Twelfth 
month, of which I informed my Woodbury friends, and 
as I had about finished my calculations for the Astronomy, 
I began to make preparations to leave Burlington. John 
asked me to tell him what compensation he should pay 
me. I told him I could not do it. I had not thought 
of any. My situation had been pleasant. He said I 
must name what sum he should pay me. I said I could 
not. Was I right? He then concluded to pay me at 
the same rate I would receive at Westtown, and asked 



if that would be satisfactory. I told him, perfectly, but 
I have never felt satisfied, when I have thought of it 
since, believing it was too much, for the advantage was 
fully half in my favor, having such a pleasant home, when 
otherwise I should have had none, and the training I had 
received in astronomical calculations was quite equal to 
spending that much time at boarding-school. Besides it 
was entirely through his advice and influence that I ob- 
tained the situation at Westtown. This was the only 
difference there ever was between us.* 

I made a short visit to my relatives in my old neigh- 
borhood at Cheltenham and Abington, and went out to 
Westtown in the stage on Seventh-day, to be ready for 
duty on Second-day, according to appointment, Twelfth 
month 1st, 1821. It was just about three months after 
I had left Fair Hill, just two years after I had entered 
on duty at Fair Hill as teacher, and four years since I 
entered Burlington school as a scholar. What a great 
variety of incidents had intervened, tending to form and 
establish character! The most prominent impress the 
review had upon my feelings seemed to be the manifest 
care of the Good Father, and the guidance of the Unseen 
Hand or Good Angel, leading me in a way I knew not 
and could not otherwise have found. 

Once more I had to make my way among entire 
strangers, but I had learned more of human nature than 
I formerly knew, and this knowledge made it somewhat 
easier to me. Seth Smith, or " Master Seth, " as they all 
called him, had been a great favorite with all — superin- 
tendent, teachers, and scholars. It was easily to be seen 
that the teachers did not regard me as capable of filling 
Master Seth's place. They left me to myself all First- 
day, which I spent in my school-room, No. 24, the one 

* See note, page 394. 



Seth had occupied, which was relieved by attending meet- 
ing twice, and I had some interesting reflections, with 
ardent desires that I might be favored to do my duty 
in what I felt to be a very responsible position. The 
scholars eyed me closely through the (to me) long day. 
In the afternoon two of the larger boys, Ellis Middleton 
and Joshua Husband, picked out some walnut kernels, 
brought them to me as I sat at my desk, and asked me 
to accept them, which I did gratefully, regarding it as an 
indication that I was making my way. At school-time 
the next morning, the superintendent, Philip Price, went 
with me to my school-room. He introduced me to my 
future scholars. After he left I made a brief address to 
them, the import of which I cannot now call to mind. 

I had noticed the day before, and noticed again that 
morning, a certain boy who was very active, observant, 
and influential, and seemed to know everybody and to see 
everything about the school. I called him to me at my 
desk, and after inquiring his name, which was Jesse Corse, 
from Delaware, I asked him what exercise Master Seth 
had first in the morning. He told me, and that exercise 
we began with. I then asked him what Master Seth did 
next ; and that we did, and so through the whole day and 
every day, what Master Seth did, we did, so that by the 
time the week was out I had their confidence, and they 
seemed almost to think Master Seth had got back again. 
Master Seth's plan did not suit me exactly throughout, 
and I gradually made some alterations, which attracted 
no evident attention, - as they did not know T but that 
Master Seth would have made them had he continued in 
charge of the school. By the close of the first week I 
was sensible of having gained the confidence of the 
scholars, which I believe I never lost while I was there. 



It having been over a month since Seth left, and the 
other two teachers, Jacob Haines and Pennock Passmore, 
having had "first and second care" alternately, every 
week since, they proposed that I should take " second 
care" the next week, to which proposition I cheerfully 
consented. I got through with my duties that w r eek very 
satisfactorily. The next week, two weeks after my ar- 
rival at the institution, I had to take "first care" and 
have the general charge of the students, between school, 
in the dining-room, etc., etc. The responsibility felt heavy, 
but I had got along well so far, which gave me ground to 
believe that, with continued watchfulness, I would get 
through the duties of that week pretty satisfactorily also. 

The week started quite pleasantly. All were as or- 
derly as usual in the dining-room, where the girls and 
boys were seated at their respective tables, which I had 
dreaded, and they left the dining-room quietly and in 
beautiful order. 

There was one boy amongst the largest of them, who, 
I several times through the week saw, was disposed to 
cause trouble ; but I took no notice of it, and with this 
single exception we got through the week very comfort- 
ably, distributing the clothes after dinner on Seventh- 
day included. 

It was the custom in pleasant weather, after distribut- 
ing the clothes on Seventh-day, for the students to collect 
in a kind of semicircle in the east yard, standing accord- 
ing to height, when permission was given to those that 
had done well through the week to " go out of bounds," 
a privilege that they much valued and enjoyed. 

When so collected I made a brief address, and re- 
ferred to the very satisfactory deportment of the students 
through the week, with a single exception, whom I named, 



and that all but he might have the usual privilege of 
going out of bounds. The excepted student then made 
use of very insulting language to me. I calmly remarked, 
" Bad leads to worse/' and requested him to take a seat 
in my school-room. After he left, in compliance with my 
directions, I again addressed the students, appealing to 
what they must have observed of his improprieties of 
conduct through the week, and that I could not, with pro- 
priety, have granted him a privilege for good conduct. 
I saw distinctly that I had their sympathies, and then 
dismissed them, and they set off in high glee. 

The remark of the student had not disturbed me in 
the least, but I thought it right to report the case imme- 
diately to the superintendent and the other teachers. The 
other teachers looked awe-struck in sympathy for me, 
and said the boy must be severely whipped or sent 
home, or my authority would be irretrievably lost. The 
superintendent looked sad too. I said to them, "I am not 
in the least discouraged. This is only one boy out of 
nearly eighty. I am convinced I have the confidence of 
the others, as I am sure there are none among them that 
sympathize with him in his conduct. This is my first 
case. If you will let me manage it I think I will suc- 
ceed without the boy being whipped or sent home. If I 
fail and lose my authority, I , will at once withdraw/' 
They all consented to my proposition, though seeming to 
feel some apprehensions for the result. 

I then went into my school-room where the boy was, 
spoke kindly to him, asked him if his mother was living, 
and expressed the deep regret I felt, which was sincere, 
that he should have exposed himself as he had done before 
all the students. There must be some cause for it. There 
had been nothing but kindness on my part towards him, 



and I could think of no other cause for his conduct 
through the week and this last great outrage on decency 
and propriety, but that he was not well. " Thou must 
be sick ; such conduct and language could not come from 
a well boy. I will go with thee to the nursery." So I 
took him to the boys' nursery and put him to bed, and 
told the nurse that I had taken a patient to her room 
to whom I wished her to pay careful attention. She was 
soon there to know what was the matter, but he was 
ashamed to explain to her. 

It happened to be on the Seventh-day that the Visiting 
Committee came out, and the women Friends of the com- 
mittee had great regard for the nursery, and were soon 
there to see who were sick. The boy's mother was a 
prominent Friend, and known to many of them, and they 
expressed great regret at finding him in bed. 

That evening I was still " in care," and could not be 
much with him, but I was free the next day, and spent 
most of the time between meetings in his room, reading 
to him and conversing with him kindly. Never, proba- 
bly, was a boy more broken down and penitent than he 
was that First-day evening. He begged that I would 
not let his mother know what had happened, nor John 
Cook, who was one of the committee and a particular 
friend of his mother's. He said he would be willing to 
do anything if I would only excuse him, and he wept 
bitterly. He said if I would only let this pass I would 
never have any more trouble with him. So we closed 
the day without his knowing what was depending. 

On reporting the case to the Faculty, after the boys 
had retired that evening, they were highly gratified with 
my success, and thought I might safely let him come into 
school the next morning, which I did, and a better boy 



than he was, from that time till he left school, there was 
not at Westtown. So, at a little after the end of my third 
week, I had gained the confidence of my fellow-teachers 
and the superintendent, which I believe I retained while 
I remained at the institution. 

The boys all slept in one chamber in the attic, the 
framing of which made three divisions, so that three lights 
were needed, candles then being generally in use. The 
teachers were in the practice, which had continued for a 
long period, of putting out the lights before they left the 
chamber, and after waiting a w r hile in the dark and not 
letting the boys know when they left the sleeping-rooms, 
coming down in their stocking feet, bringing the candle- 
sticks with then>. When I came into care the first w T eek, 
I was advised to adopt this course, but I could not do it. 
I came down with my shoes on and the lights burning, 
relying upon their individual honor, and not fear of me, 
to preserve order, and I continued to practice this course 
all through the three years I was at Westtown, and it 
was acknowledged that there was quite as good order in 
the chamber the week I was in care as at any other 

Pennock Passmore married one of the teachers, Sarah 
West, soon after I went there, and went to live in the 
" Infirmary," where Jacob Haines and his family already 
lived. This left me the only single male teacher, and 1 
very generally went into the chamber to receive the boys 
on their coming up to bed, even when the other teachers 
were in care, in order that when they had dismissed the 
boys from the collecting-room they could return to their 
families, so that I had charge of the chambers pretty much 
all of the time. 

The second winter I was there, 1822-23, was a pro- 



tracted one, with much snow and ice, and the east door 
was for a long time kept locked to prevent the snow from 
being tracked into the hall, or getting in by snow-balls 
being thrown at boys as they entered. When this door 
was locked the boys were obliged to go a long way around 
through the dimly-lighted gallery to get to the school- 
rooms, collecting-room, meals, or chambers, which was a 
great inconvenience and very disagreeable to them. 

One day, when the door was unlocked, the key in some 
way got out of it and was lost, so that it could not be 
found. This was a great trial to the superintendent. 
This key, as all others in the house, had been imported 
from England at the time the house was built, and was 
a very peculiar and valuable one. Inquiry and search 
were made in every conceivable way and place, but no 
trace or tidings of it were to be had. When the super- 
intendent and teachers all collected in the library after 
meeting one Fifth-day, the topic of conversation, of course, 
was the lost key. Superintendent expressed himself at; 
being very sorry and worried. "Well," said I, " Friends," 
if you will give me a chance, I think I can find the 
key."— "What chance dost thou want?"— "This after- 
noon." — " Very well, thou canst have it." 

I immediately went out among the boys, and, taking 
out my watch, said, "Boys, there is elegant skating on 
the pond, and there nothing in the way of our going 
this afternoon but that key. It is now near dinner-time, 
and if that key can come back before dinner, we will 
all go skating immediately after." I should state that 
the superintendent and older teachers did not like the 
boys to go skating on the mill-dam for fear of accident. 

It was not over five minutes before the long-lost key 
was in my hand. It had been found in the bottom of 



the dust-barrel, where the sweepings were thrown. I re- 
turned to the library, where the others of the Faculty, 
and the librarian, Thomas Williams, still were, and held 
up the key, the sight of which brightened up their coun- 
tenances beautifully, particularly the superintendent's. 
"Now," said I, "the boys and I are going skating this 
afternoon, on the dam." On hearing this their counten- 
ances were almost as much shaded as before, it being a 
way of having the afternoon that they had not thought 
of ; but they let us go cheerfully, and we had a delightful 
time and returned all safe. Everything can be moved if 
we touch the right spring ; adapt the means to the ends. 

One day when in care, I sent for a boy who had been 
doing something amiss. He was in Pennock's room, and 
appealed to Pennock to let this be an excuse. " No, no," 
said Pennock ; " as James the First, of England, said to 
a man who claimed protection of the king's presence, from 
arrest, when Lord Coke sent for him, ' Tut, tut, mon, gang 
along, — if old Coke were to send for me I should go 
quickly ;' so if Benjamin were to send for me, I should 
soon be there. Go along." The boy came. 

I was the only unmarried teacher in the estab- 
lishment, and my colleagues had families and lived 
at the Infirmary, so I volunteered to take their res- 
pective places when they were in care, to keep order 
at the table of the waiters, who. ate after the other 
scholars and the teachers were all done. This al- 
lowed my associate teachers an additional half hour 
three times a day, the week they were in care, to attend 
to their domestic concerns. By this arrangement, I at- 
tended at the waiters' table three times every day, the 
whole year, and having nothing to do but to preserve 
order by my presence, I kept a volume of Addison's Spec- 



tator on a shelf by the place where I sat or stood in the 
dining-room, and read a paper in it, which was from four 
to six pages, while the waiters ate each meal, which made 
twelve to eighteen pages a day. When I closed the book 
I thought over the import of what I had just read, and 
before opening it, on picking it up at the next meal, I 
ran over this again in my mind, so as to keep the con- 
nexion, and thus continued, till in these small portions of 
time, which otherwise might have passed as waste, I read 
thoroughly the whole twelve volumes of the Spectator in 
which my copy of the work is printed, in one year. It 
was among the most profitable reading I ever did; so 
that by, accommodating my fellow-teachers, I did a kind- 
ness to myself, by gaining valuable information and in- 
tellectual improvement, and knowing experimentally the 
value and importance of occupying small portions of spare 
time in some useful and systematic engagement. Four 
pages, read three times a day, requiring from fifteen to 
twenty minutes, will in a year make twelve volumes of 
three hundred and sixty-five pages each. 

A little before this time the estate of my grandfather 
Hallowell had to be divided. The will had been made 
many years (he was over eighty-four when he died), and 
it so happened that the deeds of far the greatest part of 
the property he held at the time of his death were dated 
after the date of his will, and such property is not willed, 
and has to be divided according to law.* The legal set- 
tlement of an estate, under such circumstances, is by an 
administrator with the will annexed, and under an admin- 
istrator who takes care of the part not willed, and the law 
requires any previous gifts to any of the children or heirs 
to be deducted, including lawful interest. Grandfather 

*In 1822. 



had given to my father, about 1794, one thousand 
pounds, Pennsylvania currency, which is two thousand six 
hundred and sixty-six and two-thirds dollars, and the in- 
terest for twenty-five years would be four thousand dollars 
more, making the amount to be deducted from our share 
six thousand six hundred and sixty-six and two-thirds 
dollars, which absorbed nearly all the share coming to us, 
leaving us about fifty dollars apiece. 

All this is to prepare me to tell of what great use 
this money was to me. I laid it all out in scientific 
books, before I left the city. My studies at John Gum- 
mere's, with the lectures by him on Philosophy and 
Astronomy, and his brother Samuel on Chemistry, had 
awakened me to a great interest in these sciences. I had 
procured, while there, " Yince and Wood's Course," con- 
sisting of Astronomy, Hydrostatics, Mechanics, Optics, etc., 
to which I was able to add, with these fifty dollars, 
Cavallo's Philosophy, two volumes ; Thompson's Chemis- 
try, four volumes ; Henry's Chemistry, two volumes ; 
Parke's Chemical Catechism, and some others (all of 
which I have now), which came into immediate use, and 
have been of great value to me from that time to the 
present. The Philosophical Xotes in Darwin's " Botanic 
Garden," which I read carefully at Westtown, gave me 
the first real insight into the beauty and extent of natural 
philosophy, and other branches of science. If I had been 
heir to one-third of six thousand six hundred and sixty- 
six and two-thirds dollars, as my grandfather intended, 
it is doubtful whether it would have done me as much 
good -as did those fifty dollars. 




First lecture at Westtown — Two requests granted — " The 
Circle " — Conundrum — Grammatical discussions — Social 
Suppers — Extending his mathematical knowledge — Accu- 
mulating works on mathematics — Revising Bonny castle's 
Mensuration and preparing a key to it — School committee 
very accommodating — Boys' parlor established and matron 
appointed — Offers his library for use of the boys — Begins 
to study French and Botany — Conscientious scruples — His 
sister Mary enters on duty as teacher at Westtown — Plans 
to leave Westtown — Resignation regretfully accepted — 
Three happy and profitable years. 

It had been Seth Smith's department to lecture on Nat- 
ural Philosophy, Pennock Passmore lecturing on Chemis- 
try, and it was decided that I was to continue his course, 
which had proceeded as far as Light and Optics. My first 
lecture was upon Optics, and I do not know what I 
would have done without Cavallo's Philosophy and Dar- 
win's " Botanic Garden." They gave me the very infor- 
mation I needed. I got through the lecture to the boys, 
which was on Second-day evening, very satisfactorily to 
them, and with considerable ease to myself, but I very 
much dreaded the one to the girls and the female teachers, 
which was to be the next evening, although it was to be 
the same lecture, or rather from the same notes. 

There was a little laboratory where the lecturer stood, 
connecting by sliding shutters with the collecting room, 
where the classes, who attended the lectures, sat. In this 
little apartment the lecturer could adjust his apparatus, 
and prepare what he needed, unseen. From this place I 
heard the girls and their teachers coming in, and the 



attendant bustle and murmur; then all was still, and it 
seemed as if I could not open those shutters. Can you see 
me ? At length I mustered courage to do it. There was 
the room, crowded with girls (there being at that time a 
good many more girls in the school than boys) and their 
teachers, Sybilla Embree, Abigail and Mary Passmore, 
Elizabeth Walton, and Sarah West, all with white aprons, 
caps, and neckerchiefs. I well remember, but cannot 
describe, the feeling. I had uttered but a few sentences, 
when I found pencil and paper being brought into 
requisition by teachers and scholars (thanks to Cavallo 
and Darwin), which was a new source of embarrassment. 
But I got through alive, and was glad of it. The teachers 
expressed themselves well satisfied, and Mary Passmore 
told me, that one of the girls in her class, who was re- 
quired to form a sentence containing the word " agree- 
able/' wrote, " Master Benjamin is an agreeable lecturer." 

Jacob Haines taught reading, writing, and geography 
to all the boys, while Pennock and I each had classes 
in arithmetic, mathematics, English grammar, and history, 
which at that time constituted the curriculum of the 
Westtown course. The history used was " Whelpley's 
Compend." When the committee met, I asked permis- 
sion to have one-third of the scholars assigned to my 
care, permanently, for instruction in all the branches 
taught in the school, and that I might substitute " Blair's 
Natural Philosophy " for history. I drew the committee's 
attention to the fact that almost the whole of "Whelpley's 
Compend" consisted of statements of when and where 
battles were fought, what generals commanded, how many 
men and officers were killed on each side, who gained 
the victory, and such facts connected with battles, with- 
out any information in regard to trade, commerce, the 



products of the different countries, or their physical and 
geographical features, which it would be beneficial to the 
students to know and remember. 

On hearing me through, examining Whelpley, con- 
sulting with the superintendent and the other teachers, 
and considering the subject, both of my requests were 
granted, to my great gratification. 

The "Circle" in superintendent's parlor, where the 
teachers of both sexes, not " in care," would collect in the 
evening with superintendent and his wife, became very 
pleasant and instructive, as I got better acquainted. 

Questions on science, grammar, etc., would be asked 
and discussed, as well as the current news generally re- 
marked upon. Superintendent took "Walsh's National 
Gazette," of Philadelphia, which was the most advanced 
paper of the time, containing much scientific information, 
and the most important domestic and foreign news. 
Through it and the Congressional speeches it contained, 
I first became acquainted with Clay, Webster, etc. Web- 
ster's speech on the Greek question, President Monroe's 
message to Congress, which became the basis of what has 
since been known as the "Monroe doctrine," I read in 
the Gazette, with great interest. 

The Gazette contained a conundrum, which it 
was said the Prime Minister Canning sat up a whole 
night to solve: "Why is an egg overdone, like an 
egg underdone;" his solution being, "Because they are 
both hardly done." The brightness and comprehen- 
siveness of this answer was much admired by the teachers, 
but I maintained that it was not grammatical in regard 
to the overdone egg, which is done hard, and should 
have an adjective and not an adverb to express its con- 
dition. This and its connections became an object of 



pleasant discussion for weeks, in which the general dis- 
tinction between adjectives and adverbs, resting on the 
definition of each, came to be fully understood. Many 
other questions in grammar w T ere discussed, as Young's 
line, " Sleep, like the world, his ready visit pays, where 
fortune smiles." Was world in the nominative case, sub- 
ject of the verb " pays " understood ? or objective case, 
governed by " to or unto " understood ? I maintained the 
latter position, believing the intention of the author was 
to draw a comparison between sleep and the world, and 
not between what or how sleep did, and what or how the 
w T orld did. This was all very agreeable and improving 
to me, and these are only specimens, the topics having 
been very varied and embracing a wide range. 

Breakfast and dinner the teachers took with the 
scholars, to help them to the relish, meat, soup, vegetables, 
or whatever might be on the table. The suppers were 
plain, bread and milk, mush and milk, or pie and milk, 
so that the scholars needed no waiting on, and the teachers 
all ate (a little later than the scholars) at the superin- 
tendent's table in a small room on the same floor. 

It seemed a great treat to have this little remem- 
brancer of domestic life and the family circle, once a day, 
w 7 here all were pleasant and free. 

One little incident that occurred at these suppers, I 
feel like relating, although there were many others very 
interesting and instructive to me, as* when, after my 
quoting from Lalla Rookh, 

"Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour, 
I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; 

I never loved a tree or flower, 
But 'twas the first to fade away ; 



I never nursed a dear gazelle, 

To glad me with its soft black eye, 

But when it came to know me well, 
And love me, it was sure to die 

Pennock said, " All people are like pendulums, swinging 
backwards and forwards, having their ups and downs; 
but Benjamin's vibrations are longer than most." 

But to the incident : One evening the conversation 
turned upon names. Rachel Price's name before she was 
married was Kirk. Her ancestors were English, and 
named Church, and they moved to Scotland, where the 
hard sound as k is given to ch; it became Kurk, and 
finally Kirk, which she said was such a beautiful name, 
she always admired it. One of the teachers said, " If 
thou admired it so much, how came thou to change it ?" 
" Oh," said she, " I would not have done so, only" (patting 
her husband, who sat to her left, affectionately on the 
back) " I got such a good Price for it." We all laughed 
heartily, the superintendent, who never raised his eyes, 
fairly shaking his sides. It was a beautiful scene, and is 
vividly before me as I write. 

I employed myself closely between schools (having 
then a good deal of leisure, when not in "first care"), 
in extending nfy knowledge of mathematics. I calcu- 
lated a number of eclipses of the sun and moon, and 
devised a method of a parallactic construction of the 
transit of Venus for 1882, taking the apparent semi- 
diameter of the sun for the " radius of the circle of pro- 
jection," what had never, to my knowledge, been done 
before, and the results agreed very nearly with those 
obtained by calculation. This pleased Pennock very 
much. I also constructed all the problems in the latter 
part of the school edition of Bonnycastle's Algebra, that 




were capable of construction, having no other assistance 
than Simpson's Geometry, which uncle Comly had bought 
for me when I went to school at Abington, in 1811. It 
is the the only copy I have ever seen. 

One day when Enoch Lewis (who had been John 
Gummere's teacher) came to see us at Westtown, as he 
frequently did, I showed him a construction I had in- 
vented to a certain problem, which I told him I thought 
was ingenious and beautiful. We were down in the 
dining-room, sitting by the stove, while the waiters ate. 
He looked at it for some time, and then said, " It is very 
beautiful and neat, but Simpson has preconceived thee. 
In his 'Select Exercises/ he has constructed the same 
problem, in much the same way." This was an English 
work that I had never before heard of, and on his 
recommendation I sent immediately for it and obtained it. 

By John Gummere's advice I procured also Simpson's 
Algebra, containing constructions of many geometrical 
problems, several of which I had already constructed, 
which constructions were as original with me as if they 
had never been constructed before. I was much inter- 
ested in comparing my own with his, and to find that 
his were generally superior, but in some few instances, 
mine were decidedly preferable, being shofter and neater. 

John Gummere, at my request, imported for me also 
" Leybourn's Mathematical Diary," in four volumes, con- 
taining questions, with their solutions, proposed and pub- 
lished in "The Ladies' Diary," from 1704 to 1816, also 
"Lacroix's Differential and Integral Calculus," "Peacock's 
Examples," adapted to Lacroix's work, and "Herschel's 
Calculus of Differences," so that I was accumulating a 
good mathematical library. 

Enoch commended the evidences of mathematical 



talent my constructions gave, and his commendation was 
highly gratifying. All this tended to form my character. 

We used Bonnycastle's Mensuration as a school book, 
which, besides containing many typographical errors, gave 
rules without their demonstrations, so that solving the 
problems was just a mechanical process of performing the 
four primary rules of arithmetic, following the direction 
the rule gave, without any intellectual benefit. This did 
not suit me, and I proposed to Kimber & Sharpless to 
revise the book, correct the errors, add some new 
problems, and restore and give demonstrations to the 
rules, all gratuitously, if they would print it, and I would 
also read and correct the proofs. They cheerfully acceded 
to my proposition. The rule and its demonstration for 
finding the length of a circular arc were kindly prepared 
for the work by John Gummere, and I obtained some 
assistance in the same problem from Seth Smith. 

This afforded me interesting and congenial employ- 
ment. Calculation was a pleasure to me, and my training 
at Burlington in assisting J ohn Gummere with his Astron- 
omy had rendered me accurate. I finished the Mensura- 
tion to the satisfaction of all parties. Then Kimber & 
Sharpless desired me to prepare a Key to it, containing solu- 
tions of all the unsolved problems in the work, and exhib- 
iting the different processes with their results. For this Key 
I solved every unwrought problem in the Mensuration, and 
set the w r ork down on paper, ready for the printer, in one 
week, between schools, it being a week in which I had 
neither first nor second care. Kimber & Sharpless were 
much pleased with both works, and, although I had volun- 
teered to do it all, and read the proofs, gratuitously, they 
made me a present of a large Family Bible, Cruden's Con- 
cordance, both bound in calf, and a volume of the plates 



of the Bible, they having understood, from some source, 
that I did not like the plates bound with the Bible. The 
value to me of this present, particularly the Concordance, 
is incomputable. I have read that Bible entirely through, 
Apocrypha and all, several times, and have found use for 
the Concordance from that time to the present, it having 
been a great aid and convenience to me. I have consulted 
it, I suppose, thousands of times. 

The committee were very accommodating to me. I 
much wanted an orrery or planetarium, to illustrate to the 
students the phenomena of eclipses, the seasons, and the 
retrograde motions of the planets ; and on representing the 
case to them, they told me I should have it. John Cook 
imported a beautiful one, the sun gilded, and the moon 
and planets of ivory, with several ingenious appendages, 
all moved by a crank and wheel-work. 

The committee had a case made for the instrument in 
my school-room, which I regarded as quite a compliment 
to me. It was of great use in the lectures, and in the class 
exercises on Astronomy. 

Enoch Lewis, much to our gratification, came and il- 
lustrated a lecture on Astronomy with it, in which he beau- 
tifully explained the retrograde motion of the superior 
planets, by regarding the earth as a superior planet to 
Venus, and observing what would be the motion of the 
earth when in opposition to the sun at Venus. This inge- 
nious method, for which the appendages to the orrery were 
well adapted, pleased Pennock and me highly. I was 
always both ready and willing to exhibit the orrery, and 
to explain any principle to those who desired it, and a 
number availed themselves of the opportunity. 

It was my custom to open my school in the morning 
by reading a chapter or part of a chapter in the Bible 



previously selected, and seemingly adapted to the occasion. 
One morning while the committee were on a visit to the 
school, the sub-committee appointed to visit my depart- 
ment, principally women Friends, came early, before I 
had read to the scholars. I was at first disposed to omit 
that part of the morning exercises, but that idea did not 
seem pleasant, and I performed the reading as usual. They 
asked me if that was my practice. I told them it had 
been since I first had a class of scholars to myself. 

We then went on with the school exercises, grammar, 
philosophy, geography, reading, mathematics, etc., they 
spending the entire day and part of the next. They ex- 
pressed themselves very much pleased with the school, and 
gratified with the sprightliness and accuracy with which 
the students recited. When they reported to the general 
committee, they made a full statement, including my read- 
ing some Scripture at the opening of my school, and to 
this they attributed the good order observed in it, and the 
proficiency of the scholars, instead of looking to the prin- 
ciple that lay behind this and prompted the reading and 
the corresponding effort for the students' improvement ; so . 
the committee made a rule requiring all the teachers, male 
and female, to open the morning session in the same way, 
by reading some portion of the Bible. Here was a mis- 
take, though the intention was good. The minds and feel- 
ings of some of the teachers did not sympathize with the 
engagement, and even to me it was a very different thing 
when done under authority, from what it had been when it 
was a voluntary private act, done under a concern for the 
boys' good. 

I ought to mention that a concern was awakened in the 
mind of one of the female committee that visited my 
school, by my asking the question of the class in phi- 



losophy, " How much larger the earth would appear to 
a person at the moon than the moon does to us?" 
After the school closed she invited me and a woman 
Friend, member of the committee, to meet her, and she 
expressed a concern, extending the caution, as she " felt 
convinced I would occupy a position of influence in so- 
ciety, not to indulge the opinion that it is possible that 
any other planet is inhabited besides our earth." I heard 
her through, but I fear not so patiently as I ought to have 
done, for the dinner-bell rang during her discourse, and I 
being in care, knew that I ought to be in the dining-room. 

There was no woman on the boys' side of the house to 
exert a favorable influence upon them, and I had felt a 
concern for some time that the boys should have a parlor 
on their end, with a suitable matron to whom the little 
boys could go and get a cut finger wrapped -up, and who 
could fix their collars, smooth their hair, and produce a 
humanizing, civilizing, and motherly influence upon them 
generally. When the committee met I laid this concern 
before them, giving my views fully in the belief of its 
beneficial effects on the boys, from the influence of a home 
feeling. To my surprise and gratification, my view T s were 
at once united with, and it was decided to have a " boys' 
parlor" established immediately, and Elizabeth Sykes, a 
nice Friend from Burlington, New Jersey, was appointed 
matron to have charge of it. 

My library, which I kept in a closet in my school- 
room, had increased considerably. Besides the books that 
I have already mentioned, I had " Locke's Essays," " Stew- 
art's Philosophy of the Human Mind and of the Moral 
Feelings," "Watts on the Mind," "Milton's Poetical 
Works," " Young's Night Thoughts," " Lalla Rookh," 
"Lady of the Lake," "Beattie's Minstrel," "The Wreath," 



" Falconer's Shipwreck," " Mavor's Universal History," 
twenty-five volumes, " Johnson's Dictionary," four volumes, 
" Classical Dictionary," " The Ocean Harp," and " JByron's 
Farewell to England," by John Agg, and some other 
books. In another interview with the committee I 
proposed that if they would procure a book-case, I 
would put my library in the boys' parlor, and let 
them have the privilege of reading the books when 
there. The boys had united themselves into companies 
in working their flower gardens, where they had seats 
arranged, and then when any one of them received a 
box he shared its contents with the others of his company, 
and by letting them go into the parlor, one " company" at 
a time, on successive days, all the boys would have the 
privilege of the parlor one day in every week. There 
being six companies, it would not be on the same day in 
successive weeks, and thus it would avoid its being the lot 
of some to be there two Seventh and First-days in succes- 
sion. This proposition was united with also, and dear 
John Cook offered to furnish the book-case. It was soon 
there, and a beautiful one it was, of mahogany. It con- 
tained a desk with a lid to let down, where the boys could 
write, two at a time, drawers, where Elizabeth Sykes could 
keep various needed things, and a book-case above, with 
glass doors, of sufficient size to hold all my books on the 
different shelves. John wrote me a beautiful, witty letter 
to accompany it, saying it was old, like himself, but he 
had learned not to think less of things simply on account 
of their age, if they could perform the purpose desired, as 
he was of the belief this would. The boys assisted me in 
moving and arranging the books, and they made quite a 
handsome show. 

The parlor was well furnished with carpet, settees, 



chairs, tables, etc., and it proved to be all that was expected 
of it, and even more. It was near the foot of the " up- 
stairs" and the head of the " down-stairs," so that all the 
boys had to pass the door of the parlor in going to their 
chambers or to their meals, and the changes in the in- 
creased order and quiet in that part of the establishment 
were very gratifying, almost marvellous. 

Friend Rachel Price used to come there occasionally 
and sit and talk with the boys, and the women teachers, 
one or more of them almost every day, came to sit with 
Elizabeth and converse with the students, who had the 
" privilege of the parlor" for that day, so that the boys' 
parlor, with its arrangements, was regarded as a very useful 
appendage to Westtown, and the wonder was expressed 
that it had not been established before. There were many 
expressions that I had improved the condition of West- 
town. There was certainly a great improvement in the 
order and domestic feeling on the boys' side of the house. 

I had a great desire to have a practical knowledge of 
the French language, so as to write and speak it, and also 
a knowledge of botany. Pennock was a good botanist, 
and could read French pretty well, and he gave me some 
assistance in both studies very cheerfully and efficiently. 
Pennock named after me his second son, Benjamin Pass- 
more, who is a fine man. At length a Frenchman, 
an excellent teacher, came to West Chester, and we 
made up a French class among the teachers, I making ar- 
rangements to send for him to West Chester, four miles, 
every week, and send him back the next morning. We 
were all delighted with him, both as a man and as a teacher. 
We congratulated ourselves upon the good opportunity we 
were about to have for accomplishing the purpose which 
some of us had long desired. On sending for him the 



next week, lo ! he was in jail, and all our bright hopes 

I fell back on Pennock's kindness, however, and kept 
vigorously at work, during my leisure hours, on both stu- 
dies, declining the nouns and pronouns, and getting the 
names of species and orders of plants, till I translated a 
brief "Life of Fenelon" into English pretty creditably, 
and was getting on quite well with my botany. 

At length, I found these studies were getting an 
undue hold on my mind. They would come before me 
in meeting. The declension of the French pronouns, the 
conjugation of the French verbs, and the long botanical 
names, as Uriodendron iulipifera, would "steal between 
my God and me," in my retired moments, and I thought 
it right to give up both studies, and I accordingly 
did so. 

Although I knew I did right in so doing, it being my 
highest conviction of duty, with the knowledge I then 
possessed, I have since seen that, while it was right to 
correct this obtrusion into my thoughts at unseasonable 
times, there was another way of effecting this object with- 
out relinquishing the studies, which were in themselves 
right and proper. This way was, to bring my mind and 
thoughts under that mental discipline which w T ould render 
them obedient to the will, so that I could withdraw my 
thoughts from one object and fix them on another, when 
I felt it to be my duty to do so. 

Had I only known this then, and made the necessary 
effort, in which I feel confident I should have been suc- 
cessful, what an advantage it would have been to me! 
Besides having a creditable knowledge of French and 
botany, which I could readily have acquired under Pen- 
nock's instruction, I should have secured that healthful 



mental discipline in the government of my thoughts, 
which I have so much needed, and of \vhich I did not 
know the importance till I was too old to gain it to the 
extent that would render it fully beneficial. I record 
this experience, in order to give evidence to my belief 
that the government of the thoughts, as indicated, is a 
most important part of intellectual training. 

In the winter of 1822-23, Sybilla Embree's health 
failed, and it was deemed necessary for her to leave 
school, take a sea-voyage, and travel in England and other 
parts of Europe, which she did. Ann Mifflin, from Phila- 
delphia, one of the committee, was appointed to take her 
place temporarily, but to her the situation was not at all 
congenial. She became very tired of it, and frequently 
expressed an ardent wish that the committee would obtain 
a permanent teacher to take her place. 

In this condition things continued for about five or 
six weeks. I had several times thought that my sister 
Mary, who had been a scholar at Westtown, and after- 
wards at Fair Hill, and was then teaching a private 
school at Cheltenham, might suit well, but I had not felt 
like mentioning the subject to any one, and did not. 
One Fifth-day in meeting the subject came impressively 
before me, and I resolved that, if Ann Mifflin asked me, 
as I had heard her ask others, whether I knew any one 
who I thought would suit, I would frankly mention my 
sister to her. "When I went out of meeting and got to 
the foot of the stairs, there stood Ann Mifflin. She said 
to me, " Benjamin, doesn't thee know of some one who 
would do to take my place ! " The coincidence seemed 
to me remarkable, but I simply told her I had thought 
of my sister Mary in that connexion. She clapped her 
hands and said, " That is the very thing. I wonder I 



had not thought of her before." She knew Mary, as 
they all did, and when she mentioned it to the female 
teachers and the superintendent, they all approved of it. 

Ann went to Philadelphia that afternoon, and the 
next day she and another woman member of the com- 
mittee went to Cheltenham to see my sister Mary. About 
a week from the time it was first mentioned to Ann 
Mifflin, my sister entered on duty as a Westtown teacher, 
Second month 8th, 1823, on the fifty-second anniversary 
of which I make this record, and all the incidents seem 
fresh before me. Here she became acquainted with John 
Mott, who afterwards invited her to assist him in opening 
a boarding-school at Rensselaersville, New York. When 
the * committee met, one of them remarked, " A new thing 
has happened in Israel: a brother and sister are teachers 
at Westtown." When our mother came out to see us, she 
was treated with additional respect in consideration of 
her having two children, a son and a daughter, teachers 

In the Eleventh month, 1823, Jacofr Haines resigned 
his place as teacher, after having served in that capacity 
eight and a half years. I knew of his prospect to resign, 
and encouraged Charles Farquhar, who had been there 
as a scholar, and also my colleague at Fair Hill, to apply 
for the situation, which he did. Samuel Bettle made 
some inquiries of me about him, and the committee ap- 
pointed him. Jacob left on the 6th of Eleventh month, 
and Charles entered upon duty in his place on the 10th 
of Eleventh month, 1823. 

It was truly pleasant to me to have a congenial com- 
panion and an old acquaintance in the new teacher, and 
the good order and pleasant feeling that now existed 
among the scholars, with the establishment of the boys' 



parlor, etc., rendered Westtown a very comfortable and 
homelike abode. 

The pleasant companionship of Charles did not in- 
crease my progress in my studies, but rather the con- 
trary. Nevertheless, it was a very agreeable respite 
to rae. 

On one occasion, word was circulated that William 
Forster, from England, was expected to attend Goshen 
meeting on a particular day, and as I had seen him at 
Fair Hill, where he spent some time while I was there 
teaching, it was concluded that I should attend the meet- 
ing and invite him to visit Westtown. As soon as I 
spoke to him after meeting, he remembered me and where 
he had before seen me, although it had been more than 
two years since, and said to me, " Do you still keep that 
big negro (Washington White) to wait on the table? 
He would do very well in the corn-field, but he is out 
of place in the dining-room. ,, 

William came to Westtown and spent a night. I was 
in care,* and could not be much of the time with him. 
At the time of collection in the evening, he went into 
the girls' part of the building. Visitors of the Westtown 
family, who staid all night, went to the " Infirmary " to 
lodge, and when this was proposed to William, the name 
alarmed him, and it was not till after he was assured 
that the building had never been used in the capacity 
that its name would seem to imply, that he consented 
to go there to spend the night. 

I began now to feel that the time had nearly come 
for me to change my condition of life. I had been en- 
gaged to Margaret E. Farquhar since 1821, before I left 
Fair Hill, about three years. My pecuniary circum- 
stances had not heretofore permitted of a change, such 



as I felt willing to make, for it did not seem right to 
me to take Margaret to Westtown, though to the school, 
the place, and the people there I was much attached. 
Charles Farquhar (Margaret's brother) and I consulted 
about the matter for some time, and we ultimately con- 
cluded to unite in establishing a private boarding-school, 
if we could find the right place and the right time to 
begin to move in it. I thought of Richmond, Virginia, 
as a suitable place, although I had never been there, and 
I made a journey to Sandy Spring to consult Margaret, 
and to advise with my valued friend and counsellor, 
Deborah Stabler, who knew all about Richmond, and 
felt a great interest in both Margaret and me. 

When I opened my prospect to her, she sat a little 
time silent, and then looked at me and said, " Benjamin, 
Friends do not thrive in Richmond. " That settled the 
matter in regard to Richmond, at once ; not only her 
words, but the weight that accompanied them, produced 
a conviction of the correctness of her judgment. 

I returned to Westtown, and some time after, the sub- 
ject being weightily before me, desirous as I was of find- 
ing the right place and the proper time, while sitting in 
meeting .it presented to me, with a clearness that I could 
not doubt, that Alexandria, D. C, would be the place for 
our school. Edward Stabler and many other nice 
Friends resided there, among whom was my cousin Nancy 
Shoemaker Janney, widow of John Janney. On writing 
to Sandy Spring, it met the approbation of all concerned. 
I decided to leave Westtown early in the Ninth month, and 
the day before Willistown Monthly Meeting, in the Eighth 
month, I wrote a note to . Pennock Passmore in No. 25, 
which was just across the passage from my room, inquiring 
of him how he would word an application for a certifi- 



cate on account of marriage, were such a thing necessary. 
He returned the form by the same boy that took my 
note, and in a few minutes came to my door, called me 
out, as was the custom when important business required 
it, with the greatest gravity, and preceding me to the 
collecting-room, shut the door and stood with his back 
against it. (I can see him yet, so plainly). He then 
said, with a pleasant inquiring smile, " I can stand it no 
longer. What does this mean? Who is it?" I then 
made " a clean breast " of it to him. The next day the 
matter became public by the reading of the application 
in the Monthly Meeting. Everard Passmore gave the 
news to his sisters at dinner, and they carried it to the 
school, where it was a universal surprise. There had not 
been an idea of anything of the kind entertained amongst 
them. When the committee met, I tendered my resigna- 
tion, to take effect on the 8th of Ninth month. They 
spoke very prettily and kindly to me, and of the fidelity 
with which I had performed my duty ; said they had 
hoped to have me as a " fixture " for many years to 
come, that I had made some improvements at Westtown, 
and would leave it better than I found it, but they sup- 
posed they must accept my resignation. 

It seems like a singular coincidence, that Oliver Pax- 
son, who succeeded me at Fair Hill in 1821, was ap- 
pointed to take my place at Westtown three years after. 

My three years' sojourn at Westtown was, take it all 
together, the happiest, most congenial, and most improv- 
ing period of my life. It was like a little world in which 
I felt that I was doing good, and possessed the confi- 
dence, affection, and respect of those among whom I daily 
moved, which was a very encouraging and grateful feel- 
ing to me. There was a system, regularity, and order that 



I loved ; a dignity, and a quiet, staid manner, universal 
kindness and respect, and a united purpose for what was 
best, on every important subject and occasion. 

This training was admirably adapted to form my char- 
acter, so as to meet successfully the exigencies I w r as 
about to encounter, and on this account I have dwelt 
longer upon the incidents and experiences at the insti- 



Preparations for opening school in Alexandria — Difficulties in 
getting a house — Kindness of friends — Marriage — La Fay- 
ette — School fills slowly — Lectures — Confidence of ultimate 
success — Unhealthy location ^~ Change of residence — Tem- 
porary financial anxieties — Girls' school — Private lessons — 
Prospects brighten — A benevolent society — Mathematical 

It now became necessary to make preparations and 
arrangements for opening a boarding-school in Alexan- 
dria. I went down to rent a house for the purpose, and 
with the assistance of my Fair Hill student, Robinson 
Stabler, I found a very nice place ; a frame house on the 
west side of Fairfax street, below Prince street, fronting 
south, and a little back from the street (where Thomas 
Sanford, I think, afterwards lived), belonging to Charles 
Slade, who was about to move from Alexandria. He 
drew up the articles of agreement, which we both signed, 
and I returned to Westtown. About two weeks after, I 
received a letter from him informing me that he had an 
opportunity of selling the property I had rented, to ad- 



vantage, if I would give up the lease, and it would be a 
great accommodation to him if I would do so. On think- 
ing over the matter, I concluded it would only be " doing 
as I would be done by " to comply with his request, and 
I accordingly sent him the lease by the next mail. I 
have never seen him since, but Eobinson Stabler said he 
was greatly obliged to me. 

It then became necessary that another visit to Alexan- 
dria should be made, which was done by Charles Farquhar. 
who rented the brick house and half a square of ground 
on the north side of Orinoco street, near Washington 
street. I ordered some chemicals and chemical apparatus 
of Daniel B. Smith, of Philadelphia ; an air-pump, with its 
appendages, an electrical machine and its appendages, the 
mechanical powers, and hydrostatic apparatus, of the Ma- 
son Brothers ; and of McAllister a large magic lantern, 
with astronomical slides, etc., etc. I also got Seth Smith 
to superintend the making of a pneumatic trough or cist- 
ern, with gasometers for the compound blow-pipe, on a plan 
that his experience at Westtown had suggested as the best. 
It was oval, with one gasometer at each end, leaving a 
space or well between them for collecting and transferring 
gases, the top of the gasometers serving as shelves. The 
gasometers were open at the bottom, and the gases were to 
be introduced below by a leaden tube from the retort. It 
cost fifty-five dollars. 

I may say here that with Daniel B. Smith and W. & 
A. Mason I had a running account for many years, add- 
ing to my stock of chemical and philosophical apparatus, 
annually. They were very liberal and accommodating to 
me, which was a great convenience, and I remember their 
kindness with gratitude. 

On the 8th of Ninth month, 1824, I bade farewell to 



all at Westtown, to make a new start in life, with a feeling 
of heavy responsibility and some uncertainty of success, 
which can be better imagined than described. I had accu- 
mulated some funds at Westtown, my dear mother gave 
me some, and uncle Comly lent me two hundred dollars, 
which he increased at times of pressure afterwards till it 
became four hundred, for which I gave him my note to be 
paid with interest. This was all the assistance I ever had, 
except some that my sister Mary returned for what I had 
paid for her boarding and schooling at Fair Hill, which I 
have always regretted my necessities at the time compelled 
me to take ; but I endeavored afterwards to make it up to 
her fully. 

Uncle Comly was very kind to me ; he never would 
take more than five per cent, interest on the money he lent 
me, that being, he said, what the N orristown bank paid 

My dear mother kindly went to Alexandria with me, 
to assist in getting the house, beds, etc., ready. Charles 
Farquhar was to come about the first of the year 1825. 
Mother and I put up at the hotel, corner of King and 
Royal streets, then kept by Edmonston, if I remember 
right. After mother had retired for the night, which was 
early, Mary Stabler, wife of EdwaTd Stabler, came to call 
on her, having learned through Robinson, whom I met in 
the street, where we put up. Mother saw her in her cham- 
ber, and Mary insisted on mother's going to their house and 
making it her home until we got the one on Orinoco 
street prepared to go into. This was a kindness my dear 
mother remembered with gratitude to the close of her life, 
and she frequently spoke of it, and of what a relief and 
comfort it was at the time. It seemed to remove a burden 
from her mind. 




I got Elisha Talbott to make two large cases, with four 
glass doors each, for my apparatus, to stand in my lecture- 
room, which was the west front room on the first floor, 
one case each side of the fire-place ; and to make a platform, 
teacher's desk, and desks for twenty-five scholars, in the 
school-room, which was the east front room on the second 
floor ; and to have all ready for the school to open on the 
1st of Eleventh month, 1824. 

I also got Robert Brockett to build a brick oven and 
make some repairs about the kitchen, etc., and engaged 
Nancy Gordon (colored), as a housemaid for Margaret. 
Nancy was then staying with a kinswoman " Nelly." In 
speaking with Nancy in " Nelly's" presence, I said, " Thou 
wilt find Margaret easy to please and pleasant to live 
with." " Nelly" looked up very significantly, and replied, 
"Ah! you dorit know yet." 

My apparatus, books, clothes, etc., were to come by 
vessel, and I felt some uneasiness lest they might not be 
there in time, the day of the marriage having been fixed 
for the 13th of Tenth month. They came safe, however, 
and in time to have all the apparatus nicely arranged in 
its place, and it made a very respectable appearance. 

It was arranged that we were to be married at the close 
of the Monthly Meeting at Sandy Spring, Maryland, on 
the 13th, and go down to Alexandria the same afternoon. 
I obtained a nice hack of John West, telling him of the 
occasion, and that he might take his time in going up on 
the 12th, but I would like him to drive down pretty brisk- 
ly. On arriving at Fair Hill on the 12th, I found that 
Stephen and Hannah Wilson, by whose residence we had 
to pass in going from Sandy Spring Meeting House to 
Alexandria, had kindly insisted that we should stop there 
and take a lunch as we went down. They thought a 



great deal of Margaret, and she had accepted the invi- 
tation. Philadelphia was then a great distance, in time, 
from Sandy Spring, and none of my relations came to the 
wedding. My mother thought it right to remain in Alex- 
andria to receive the bride, her new daughter, whom she 
had never seen. I had, at my leisure, written the certifi- 
cate in Alexandria, on parchment, and it looks well yet. 
Roger Brooke read it at our marriage, and read it well. 
Eighty-six persons signed it, many of whom were Fair 
Hill scholars. A large number of the signers have passed 
to the spirit world. Phebe Farquhar and Catharine 
Leeke (now of Cincinnati), went down in the hack with 
us, we four constituting our entire wedding company, and 
all four are still alive.* 

Hannah Wilson's lunch proved to be a very nice and 
bountiful dinner. After dinner we started, and Margaret 
not feeling very well, we stopped at Lovelace's, six miles 
from Washington, to rest awhile. While waiting I wrote 
to my uncle Comly. It was just in the midst of prepara- 
tions at Alexandria for the reception of General La 
Fayette, and everything was running in that channel, so I 

Each lover of liberty surely must get 

Something in honor of La Fayette. 

There's a La Fayette watch-chain, a La Fayette hat, 

A La Fayette this, and a La Fayette that. 

But I wanted something as lasting as life, 

And took to myself a La Fayette wife. 

Margaret soon got better, and the man drove on rap- 
idly and we arrived safe, and well at our home, where dear 
mother received her new daughter and all of us very 
kindly. She had invited Edward and Mary Stabler, Mar- 

*A11 have died since the writing of this Autobiography. — Eds. 



garet Judge, Rachel Painter, Phineas and Sarah Janney, 
Jonathan and Betsey Janney, and a good many other 
Friends, to take tea with us. 

Mother and Nancy, with the kind assistance of some of 
the Friends, had prepared a very nice supper. After tea, 
Margaret Judge, in the goodness of her heart, took the 
Friends to see the lecture-room, and asked me to exhibit 
the magic lantern, and particularly the astronomical 
slides, which, tired though I was, I could not well refuse to 
do, and the exhibition seemed very gratifying to the com- 

The next morning General La Fayette came to call on 
the widow of General Harry Lee, and mother of Robert E. 
Lee, who lived next door to our house. Margaret and I 
stood in the front door as he went by, and when he got 
opposite he looked at us, took off his hat, and made us a 
graceful bow, not knowing it was to a lady who had been 
married the day before, and whom her husband had named, 
after the wedding, his La Fayette wife. 

Washington street in Alexandria is one hundred feet 
wide, each sidewalk being eighteen feet. There were three 
spans of arch erected in honor of La Fayette across it, 
just north of King street, two of eighteen feet span over 
the sidewalks, and the central one sixty-four feet span. 
They made a very handsome appearance. Appropriate 
mottoes were on each side of each arch. I remember the 
two that were on the central arch. On the side of his ap- 
proach was, " Welcome La Fayette ! A nation's gratitude 
thy due !" On the other was an extract from a speech he 
had made in the Paris Tribune, " For a nation to be free, 
it is sufficient that she wills it." 

Colonel Mountford, keeper of the Alexandria Museum, 
had fastened one of his live eagles on the crown of the 



arch, with its head in the direction of the approach of the 
procession, and he and others said that just as the General 
was passing under the arch, the eagle rose, spread out his 
wings to their full extent, then gracefully folding them, re- 
sumed his former position. 

My school filled slowly. I had advertised that it 
would open on the 1st of Eleventh month, but no scholar 
came during that month. 

It was concluded that Margaret's brothers, Granville 
and William Henry, should come on the 1st of Twelfth 
month, at the same price they were paying at Fair Hill, 
twenty dollars per quarter each for board and tuition, 
forty dollars of which was paid in advance, and this w T as 
the only money received for schooling till after New Year. 
I had never been used to having much money, but I had 
never been in debt, a thing of which I had great horror. 
On the 1st of Twelfth month Andrew Schofield entered 
his nephew Thomas, Mordecai Miller his son Joseph, and 
late in the month Abijah Janney sent his son Richard, 
and Obed Waite, of Winchester, his ward, Thomas Page. 
These four were all the day scholars I had till after New 
Year, 1825. The price of tuition of day scholars, in the 
common branches, was six dollars a quarter, and in 
mathematics, ten dollars a quarter, and for board and 
tuition, thirty dollars a quarter. 

It was thought proper early in the Twelfth month to 
begin a course of lectures on Chemistry, Natural Philo- 
sophy, and Astronomy, as I wanted something to do, and 
thought probably they might give some reputation to the 
school, so I advertised them in the paper ; one dollar for 
a single ticket for the course, and five dollars for a family. 
The day the advertisement appeared, Hugh Smith sent 



for a family ticket, with the money, and soon after Jona- 
than Janney did the same. 

My first lecture, which, according to custom, was free 
to all, was a memorable occasion. It was the first time 
my pneumatic cistern, that Seth Smith had made for me, 
was brought into requisition. From the description I have 
given of its construction, it will be seen there was no 
way of getting the gasometers filled with water, but by 
filling the whole tub. Our maid Xancy carried the water 
for the purpose all the way from the "diagonal pump," 
over five squares, on her head. She said it "did hold 
so much." I wished, in my introductory lecture, to show 
the " compound blow-pipe," and it was therefore necessary 
to have both the gasometers filled. 

I had never had any practical experience in chemical 
manipulations. I had never seen gases made, except in 
small quantities, in the lecture-rooms at Burlington and 
AVesttown. There was no one from whom I could obtain 
any information or assistance, and I had a very hard time 
of it. The great difficulty I experienced was in getting 
the leaden tube attached air-tight to the glass or iron 
retort. As will be understood by the construction of the 
cistern, the leaden tube had to be taken down through 
the water to the bottom of the cistern, and there intro- 
duced into the gasometer, and of course it was necessary 
to overcome the pressure of the column of water, which 
gave that much more pressure upon the interior of the re- 
tort, and caused a leak in the connection, or " luting," as it 
is called. I found the directions given in Henry's Chem- 
istry and in " Faraday's Chemical Manipulations " very 
serviceable to me, and eventually, with great perseverance 
as my only assistant, I got them both filled. 

Then came the evening of the lecture. Margaret 



Judge had taken great interest in the lecture, and had 
invited many of her friends, Parson Norris, Parson 
Wilmer, Townsend Waugh, Edmonds Hoffman, Elizabeth 
Cooke, Doctor Fonerdon, etc., etc. The room was crowded, 
a thing very unexpected to me, and so many being stran- 
gers, I was somewhat embarrassed at the commencement. 
I had arranged to have an " experiment," so as to give 
a little breathing place early in the lecture, and Margaret 
Judge, who I think perceived my condition, under pre- 
tence of changing her seat to the other side of the room, 
came by me and said in an undertone, " Thee is doing 
admirably and went on. Dear woman, how deeply 
interested for me she was ! Her remark seemed the very 
encouragement I needed, and was truly a " word in 
season." I got through quite creditably — exhibited the 
compound blow-pipe, some experiments with the air-pump 
and the magic-lantern, and was, after the lecture, intro- 
duced to Parsons Wilmer, and Norris, who congratulated 
me on my success. 

My pneumatic trough not serving a practical purpose, 
Thomas William Smith planned and made for me the 
most complete one I have ever seen. 

About the first of the year, brother Charles Farquhar 
came, and we had some addition to the number of scholars, 
and one more boarder, James P. Farquhar, sent by his 
guardian, William Shepherd. Edmond I. Lee sent his son 
Cassius, and Thomas Swann his son Wilson, who were ten- 
dollar scholars. Samuel M. Janney and Townsend Waugh 
came to night-school to study mathematics, all in the First 
month. In the Second month Robert E. Lee came to study 
Mathematics, preparatory to going to West Point ; also 
William S. Young, son of Elizabeth Young. In the 
Third month Ann Swift sent her son Foster, Jonathan 



Janney his sons Isaac and Richard, and Edward Stabler 
his son Edward H., a mathematical scholar. He had been 
my scholar at Fair Hill. In the Fourth month Jonathan 
Janney sent his nephews, James and Israel Janney. Bath- 
urst Daingerfield sent his son John, and Dubre Knight, 
who had been a teacher at Fair Hill, entered as a boarder. 
In the Sixth month John Wood sent his son John, so that, 
by the end of the first six months of 1825, we had about 
twenty scholars, including four boarders. The school and 
the income from it were small, but I had confidence of 
ultimate success. 

On the 1st of Ninth month, 1825, our son James was 
born, and seemingly with the bilious fever. His mother 
was very ill. Then, for the first time, we heard that our 
situation on Orinoco street, on the edge of the town as it 
was, had always been regarded as unhealthy. Doctor 
Washington (who attended Margaret), Edward Stabler, 
and others, so considered it. This brought a new trial and 
responsibility on me. I could not bear the idea of my 
wife and family continuing in a place that was thought to 
be unhealthy, or of my inviting boarders to such a situa- 

Margaret continued ill through the fall and winter, 
and Dr. Washington was discouraged about her recovery, 
especially in that place. 1 endeavored to find a suitable 
situation in a more central part of the town, but failed. 

After some time I was offered by the widow Hooe the 
commodious brick house at the corner of Washington and 
Queen streets, a healthy situation, and admirably adapted 
to our purpose, and I immediately engaged it. We moved 
in the spring vacation, 1826. I obtained a hack, placed a 
bed in it, and carried Margaret in my arms from her cham- 
ber up-stairs, into the hack, and placed her on the bed. 



She was exceedingly emaciated. Nancy carried little 
" Jimmy." On arriving at our new home I carried Mar- 
garet from the hack to the chamber, and felt greatly re- 
lived by the hope of her now being better. 

Cousin Benjamin Shoemaker, who was there as a 
boarding scholar, assisted me in moving, and it was very 
pleasant to have him with us. He was always very con- 
genial to me. 

My school -room was on the first floor, north end, 
all across the house, I having obtained permission of 
my landlady, in our arrangements, to remove the partition 
on condition of replacing it by one with folding doors, 
when I should leave the property, which was done. My 
lecture-room was the back room over the school-room. 
The school-room was considerably larger than the one on 
Orinoco street, so that we could now take more day 
scholars, and the lecture-room was about the same size 
as the other one. Brother Charles soon after, left me 
to study medicine. Margaret's health was decidedly im- 
proved, which was a great comfort to me. 

The very day the quarter's rent was due the widow 
Hooe's carriage was at the door, and this continued to be 
her custom as long as she lived. If I had not the money, 
which was generally the case, I would frankly tell her so, 
and add that the first money I should get, and could pos- 
sibly spare, I would take to her, with which she was always 
satisfied. She never said a word like urging me or 
being disappointed in not getting the rent due, and I 
did take to her the very first I received, never permitting 
it to be in my possession over night. If I received it in 
the evening, I would take it immediately to her. I was 
favored never to let a second quarter's rent become due 



before the last one was paid. She was a truly good land- 
lady, and I possessed her confidence. 

It was a very hard time with me financially through 
1827-28-29 and 1830. I dreaded Seventh-day to come, it 
being the day that bills came in, people thinking I would 
be out of school. At one time I was three weeks without 
as much as three " fip-penny bits" in my pocket. One 
morning I did not know how I should get along, felt very 
badly, and on going to the post-office found a letter from 
Mary Rich, Thomas Winston's sister, with a thirty-dollar 
note in it (the first one I ever saw), on account of his 
schooling. This did seem like a God-send, and caused me 
to spend a happy day, as it supplied every pressing de- 

George S. Hough was very kind and liberal. He told 
us to get what dry goods we wanted at any time. John P. 
Cowman, in the same way, invited us to come to his store 
and get flour, butter, and groceries, whenever we needed. 
I would pay them part, as I had the money, but they never 
sent in a bill unless I requested them to do so, and I sup- 
pose I did not owe either of them less than one hundred # 
dollars at any time for some years. I have often since 
thought, with gratitude, of their kindness and liberality. 

One day I needed some money badly, and after calling 
with bills on several persons unsuccessfully, I went to Ezra 
Kinsey with a bill for his son Samuel, who was in Astron- 
omy, and a " ten-dollar" scholar. I explained to him the 
necessity that induced me to call ; that my purse was 
very low. " Well," said he, " you have come" (here I was 
expecting another rebuff) "to the very right place, for I have 
the money, and am willing to pay it. My son is making 
good progress." This was quite a wind-fall. 

Mary Stabler had a concern for my Margaret to open 



a school for girls ; she wished to send her daughters, and 
on consideration Margaret consented to do so, in the front 
room, over my school-room, and she soon had the school 
full of nice girls. They attended my lectures, as did also 
a class from Eliza Porter's and Rachel Waugh's schools. 
Some difficulty occurred between these two schools, and 
Rachel Waugh urged me to give a lecture each week to 
her scholars, separately, for thirty dollars for the winter, 
which I consented to do. I could not afford to buy a stove 
for the lecture-room, so I carried the one from Margaret's 
school-room to the lecture-room, with faithful Nancy's aid, 
every lecture-night the whole winter, and back again the 
next morning, the arrangement with Rachel Waugh dou- 
bling the stove transportation labor. 

Widow Hooe offered me the tobacco warehouse, just 
south of the sugar-house, and but a little way from my 
residence, for fifty dollars a year, which I agreed to take. 
This enabled me to accommodate more day-scholars, the 
school-room where I was being full, and gave me a fine 
large lecture-room, besides four more rooms in our dwelling 
house. This was a fine and very unexpected movement in 
my favor. 

In the fall of 1828 I began to give private lessons to 
the daughters of Craven Thompson and Robert I. Tay- 
lor, at their respective homes, having definite hours as- 
signed to me, betw T een my own school hours, like their 
music and French teachers. This w T as humbling to me, 
but I was in debt, and I was desirous of doing anything 
that w T as honorable to get out of debt and make a living. 
I went to Thompson's and Taylor's immediately after my 
afternoon school. 

Then after tea in the evenings I had a class of girls, 
consisting of Sarah Smith, Susan and Rebecca Stabler, 



Eosalie Taylor, and some others, in Philosophy, Grammar, 
Arithmetic, etc. After this class left, which was about 
half-past eight o'clock, I would lie down a little while 
in my school-room where I heard their lessons, and then 
prepare the gases and get the appendages ready for my 
lectures. It was frequently midnight or after before I 
got through. 

On the 17th of Xinth month, 1830, I commenced giv- 
ing private lessons to Angela Lewis, daughter of Major 
Lawrence Lewis (who was a nephew of General Washing- 
ton, and it was said a good deal resembled him in appear- 
ance). These lessons continued through the year, for 
which I charged fifty dollars, and the Major promptly 
sent me his check for the amount. Eleanor Lewis, An- 
gela's mother, always attended at her daughter's recitations 
in English Grammar, Parsing, Natural Philosophy, etc., 
so that her influence, which she afterwards exerted in my 
favor, and her praise of my method of teaching, was of 
greater value to me than the amount I received in hand 
for teaching her daughter. 

The ceilings of my school and lecture-rooms were 
low, and the windows were the longest horizontally, the 
sash revolving. I proposed to widow Hooe, my landlady, 
that if she would have the roof raised about four feet, 
and the windows put longest way up, and furnished with 
weights so as to rise and fall, I would double the rent 
and pay her one hundred dollars a year, to which she 
cheerfully consented, and she had the changes commenced 
promptly. This greatly increased the comfort of both 
rooms, my school became full, there being as many as 
one hundred scholars, and my lectures were well attended, 
by some of the most respectable citizens and their fami- 
lies — Hugh Smith, Anthony Charles Cazenove, William 



Fowle, Phineas Jannev, Jonathan Jannev, Edward Stabler, 
and classes of girls from the schools of Eliza C. Porter, 
Rachel Waugh, Ellen Mark, and John West's wife. 

A benevolent society was formed in Alexandria about 
the year 1827, of which Thomas Jacobs was President 
and I Secretary. Benjamin Lundy was there, and assisted 
in its organization. The object of the association was to 
render assistance to such persons as were slaves and 
willed to be free at a certain time, in which case, if they 
were hired out of the State, or from the District of 
Columbia, they were at once entitled to their freedom on 
that fact being established. Samuel M. Jannev, George 
Drinker, Abijah Jannev, Townsend Waugh, Presley 
Jacobs, Thomas Preston, Daniel Cawood, Shack- 
elford, and a number of others, were members. Edward 
and William Stabler did not join, being fearful that the 
object of the society might be misunderstood. 

We got a number of persons liberated, who were hired 
out of the State of Maryland. Francis S. Key* informed 
us by letter of the case of a whole family. I went to 
Upper Marlboro' upon the subject, taking my nephew, 
Caleb S. Hallowell, with me, and it resulted in the libera- 
tion of thirteen, most of them children. The object of 
the society was, not to interfere with slavery, but to secure 
to the slaves their legal rights. A number of commu- 
nications, mostly written by Samuel M. Jannev, were pub- 
lished in the Alexandria Gazette, in favor of abolishing 
slavery in the District of Columbia, and we prepared a 
petition to Congress, praying for that object, which was 
signed by all the judges of the courts, nearly all the 
gospel ministers in Alexandria, Washington, and George- 
town, and over fifteen hundred voters of the District, 
* Author of the "Star Spangled Banner/- Eds. 



which then comprised a county on each side of the Po- 
tomac. The petition was presented to Congress, but the 
prayer it contained was not granted. 

This was the first society, of others than Friends, I was 
ever a member of. I had never known a decision by yeas 
and nays, where I was concerned, or heard the yeas and 
nays called. It was all new to me, but I was learning. 
Being only Secretary, my duties were plain, and my ignor- 
ance was not discovered. The society met every month, 
(and itrwas a live society), until the Southampton or " Nat 
Turner " insurrection, Eighth month, 1831, when, under 
the excitement this occasioned on the subject of slavery, 
it was thought to be most prudent to suspend the meet- 
ings, and they were never resumed. 

In 1829, I had some mathematical correspondence, 
through the columns of the " National Intelligencer,'' with 
James Caden, a teacher who lived in Alexandria when 
I went there, but who had moved to Washington, which 
tended to bring my school into notoriety. The letters on 
both sides are in my scrap-book. 



Death of his valued friend Edward Stabler — Eclipse of the Sun 
— Family bereavement — Northern tour — ' ' Celestial phe- 
nomena " — Surveying — Calculating an almanac — Revising 
Blair's Philosophy — Cholera — Meteoric shower — Amove 
which begins in difficulty but ends well. 

The year 1831, just mentioned, was a memorable one 
to me in several respects. On the 18th of the First 
month, my valued friend, Edward Stabler, departed this 



life. I was in the chamber with him when he died. His 
wife fell immediately on her knees in earnest and affect- 
ing supplication for patience and resignation to the severe 
and unexpected bereavement to her and to her now 
fatherless children. The previous Fifth-day, five days 
before, he had been at meeting. His disease was pro- 
nounced to be scarlet fever. 

On the 12th of Second month was a very large eclipse 
of the sun, that I had calculated at John Gummere's, 
and had looked forward to ever since, with interest. The 
sun was eleven and a half digits eclipsed. On the 6th 
of Fourth month, our daughter Mary Jane died, twin 
sister to Henry, aged nearly twenty-two months. On the 
9th of Seventh month, James, our oldest child, died of 
scarlet fever, after nineteen hours sickness, aged nearly 
six years. On the 17th of Seventh month, one week after, 
his next younger brother, Charles, died of the same disease, 
aged four years and two months, sick eight days. 

Of our four children, three were taken in less than 
three months, leaving only Henry. When Joseph Man- 
deville met me first after these strippings, he quoted, 
feelingly, the following appropriate lines from Young's 
" Apostrophe to Death :" 

" Insatiate Archer ! could not one suffice? 

Thy shaft flew thrice and thrice my peace was slain, 

And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn." 

It was a hard stroke to me. I felt as if the light 
of the world was put out. I had not then learned that 
children are only lent, or to know this truth, to quote 
from Hannah More : " That is not true content which 
does not enjoy as the gift of infinite wisdom what is has, 
nor is that true patience which does not suffer meekly 



the loss of what it had, because it is not in accordance 
with the Divine Will that it should have it longer." 

Upon the death of little Charles, Seventh month 
17th, of scarlet fever, it was thought best to break up 
the school. I took Margaret and Henry, our only child 
left, to Fair Hill, the home of my father-in-law, and I 
went on a visit to New York, Boston, etc. I left New 
York in the evening, taking the boat for Boston, just one 
week after Charles's death, and was walking alone on the 
upper deck, thinking over recent events, with a feeling of 
sadness, when I looked up and saw the heavens all tran- 
quil, and many of the stars, of which I had known the 
names for years, seeming like old acquaintances, and I 
was favored to realize that all was not gone, but that 
there was something still left worth living for. I was 
much strengthened and encouraged by this outlook at 
the stars. 

I visited Cambridge college, where I was introduced 
to President Josiah Quincy, and was delighted with their 
large planetarium and rich cabinet of minerals; visited 
the Athenaeum, to which I had some difficulty in gaining 
admission, being at first refused, having no ticket ; but I 
told the person in charge that I was from Alexandria, 
below Washington, knew no one in Boston to whom I 
could apply for a ticket, and looking him pleasantly in 
the face, told him I would be very glad if he would let 
me in ; when, with a look as pleasant as mine could have 
been, he asked me to enter, and was as careful to show 
me all the many objects of interest it contained as if I 
had had a regular introduction. I also called to see 
Dr. Nathaniel Bowditch, who was then the actuary of a 
life insurance company, and had some very interesting 
conversation with him. John Gummere once had called 



on him, John told me, and introduced himself in a similar 
way. They had both been contributors to a mathematical 
work called " The Analyst," and had learned to appreciate 
each other's intellectual powers, but had never met. 
John thought Bowditch did not manifest quite as much 
cordiality as he expected ; when some turn was given to 
the conversation, by which Bowditch learned who his visitor 
was, (not having previously realized that he was his former 
correspondent), he rose from his seat and took him by the 
hand, saying, " Is your name Gum-me-re ? I have always 
called it Gum-mere' ' ; and afterwards he was most cordial 
and agreeable. My visit to Boston was delightful through- 

I concluded to return to New York by way of New 
Haven. I arrived at New Haven on Seventh-day even- 
ing, and staid over First-day at the " Tontine Hotel." 
I attended chapel in the morning and church in the 
afternoon, where I heard a most interesting discourse 
from the Scripture account of Peter and Simon the 
Sorcerer, the import of which I remember to this day, 
and have been many times instructed by it, but it is too 
long to record it any other way than I am doing it, by 
my life. Between meetings I walked over the city and 
into the beautiful cemetery, where I saw the tomb of Eli 
Whitney, who made that great gift to the South, the cotton 
gin. I also saw the graves of three children of Professor 
Silliman lying side by side, whose ages did not much differ 
from those we had recently lost, and the coincidence was 
touching to me. I had known him by character for some 
years, and had taken his Journal of Science at John Gum- 
mere's recommendation, from its commencement, and as 
my visit to Xew Haven was principally to call on him, I 
went to his residence the next morning. He recognized 




me as one of his Southern subscribers who had contributed 
to his Journal, of which I shall speak hereafter, and he 
seemed very glad to see me. I mentioned having seen the 
graves of his three children in the cemetery the preceding 
day, and related to him the coincidence of our having re- 
cently lost the same number at nearly the same ages, 
which seemed to touch his sympathies, and was the founda- 
tion of a w T arm friendship, that terminated only with his 
life. I was shown through the college, the cabinet of min- 
erals, containing the largest piece of meteoric iron I had 
ever seen, and through the laboratory, where I saw an 
electro horse shoe magnet, constructed by Professor 
Henry, then of Rensselaer Institute, that would support 
the weight of seven men. 

I returned to Alexandria and went up to our home 
intending to stay there till next morning. It did look des- 
olate. Margaret and Henry, our only remaining child, 
were at Fair Hill. 

The clock had stopped. Not a being was there. At 
last, in one of the rooms, I came across a half-starved cat, 
that mewed piteously when it saw me, which incident af- 
fected my feelings so much that I at once got a hack, and 
went to Fair Hill for Margaret and Henry. I found 
them both well, and also all the rest. My coming upon 
them, rather unexpectedly, brightened them up, and that 
cheered me, and we spent a right pleasant evening. 

The next day, the 13th of Eighth month, the same day 
as the " Nat Turner Insurrection," I brought Henry and 
his mother to Alexandria, and in the afternoon, as I was 
walking down the street I observed a very unusual and 
remarkable appearance of the sun, in explanation of which 
I wrote an article for the National Intelligencer, which 
they headed "Celestial Phenomenon. " Little Henry and I 



took this communication to Washington, Eighth month 
20th, the afternoon of the day on which our daughter Caro- 
line, at whose request I am writing these incidents, was born. 

This communication was replied to by Dr. Robert 
Newman, of Romney, Virginia, which resulted in a cor- 
respondence through the columns of the National Intelli- 
gencer, that continued nearly a year and a-half, which cor- 
resjDondence is contained in my " Scrap Book." 

I was appointed by the Common Council, City Surveyor 
of Alexandria (successor to William Yeaton), the fees of 
which office, if I had exacted them, would have amounted 
to a considerable sum in a year ; but it afforded a fine op- 
portunity to instruct my students in " Field Practice," with 
the theodolite and level, and I always took with me 
those of them who were qualified, and made it a class ex- 
ercise, so that I did not feel willing, or think it right, to 
receive pay for it. 

However, on Seventh-day afternoon, I did a good deal 
of field surveying in Alexandria and Fairfax counties, 
for which I made regular charges. After making a pretty 
extensive survey for Rozier Dulany, who owned and lived 
at " Suter's Hill," he sent me a check, with the amount 
in blank, for me to fill with what sum I chose, which 
I made not over the ordinary charges. 

About 1830, I sent a communication to " Silliman's 
Journal of Science," giving a reason for the blue and 
dark appearance of the heavens ; for the twinkling of the 
stars ; why telescopes cause the stars to shine with a steady 
light, and enable the observer to see stars that are other- 
wise invisible; and the cause of large hail in warm 
weather. All the articles were published in the Journal, 
first series, and were copied into the Boston Courier, and 
from it into a paper published in Charleston, South Caro- 



lina, where James P. Stabler, of Sandy Spring, Maryland, 
saw it, and he sent the paper to me. 

I also calculated the Alexandria Almanac for William 
A. Morrison, which was printed by Edgar Snowden for 
two years in succession, but what years I cannot recol- 
lect* For this, my training with John Gummere was of 
great service to me. 

About 1830, I also revised Blair's Philosophy, in 
which I inserted the substance of my articles to Silli- 
man's Journal, and some other original matter, and the 
book was very neatly printed by Kimber & Sharpless. 

In Fifth month, 1832, brother Charles Farquhar re- 
turned to Alexandria, commenced the practice of medicine, 
and opened an apothecary store on King street, boarding 
with us. It was the year the cholera was in Alexandria, 
and he was appointed by the Common Council one of 
the physicians to the cholera hospital. On his visits to 
the hospitals I accompanied him, he fixing the time to 
suit my hours of school. There were many sudden deaths, 
immediately around us, and throughout the town. The 
scenes at the hospitals were heart-rending; some con- 
tinually dying, and generally seeming indifferent w T hether 
they lived or died. 

One day, a large, strong man, appearing to be about 
thirty-five years old, was struck down with the disease 
in the street, at noon, near my school. He remained 
entirely sensible. My interest and sympathy were keenly 
awakened, and I remained with him until time for school, 
two o'clock, w T hen, as there were physicians and a number 
of others in attendance, I left him to attend to my school 
duties. But my thoughts would run to the poor man. 
About four o'clock, I w T ent out to see how my unfortunate 
patient came on, and found that he was not only dead, but 

* 1834 and 1837. 



buried ! All this in about four hours from his first at- 
tack ! My feelings were shocked. For several days, his 
image, as he lay there pleading that he might live, seemed 
continually before me. I could not sleep. My heart 
was filled with discouragement. I had not then learned 
that, while there are many mansions in the Father's 
house, there are none for the discouraged, for discourage- 
ment implies want of faith and trust in the Good 
Father. So I found it. There was no peace in that 
state of mind. I strove to rise from it, and to feel as- 
sured that all being in the orderings of the good and 
merciful Father, it must be in wisdom and love. Thus 
with this thought "getting up to the entering in (or 
mouth) of the cave," like the prophet, I one night re- 
ceived an impression as distinct as if it had been with 
an audible voice, or written in letters of light in the 
firmament, " death cannot separate from my Father's care, 
love and mercy." My feelings were overwhelmed with 
gratitude, not only for the relief and calm to my troubled 
spirit, but for the everlasting goodness and tender solici- 
tude of the Eternal Father, and the renewed assurance 
that "his mercy endureth forever." 

In Sixth month, 1833, our brother Charles Farquhar 
was married to Sarah Brooke, daughter of Roger Brooke. 
They boarded at our house for three weeks, while they 
got their own house on King street ready to live in. 
In the spring of 1837, they left Alexandria and settled 
at Olney, Sandy Spring, Maryland, where our widowed 
sister Sarah still lives. 

In the Eleventh month, 1833, a communication ap- 
peared in the Xational Intelligencer of Washington city, 
headed, " A call to Mr. Hallowell," asking me very re- 
spectfully and complimentarily to give an explanation of 



the " Meteoric Shower " that had occurred on the thir- 
teenth of that month, to which I replied, and both the 
communications are contained in my scrap-book, also a 
description of the shower of stars. 

These all tended to make my school more known, 
besides being useful to myself, from the requisite thought 
and research, and they were among the environments 
that acted on my organism and evolved my character, 
and the " me," as I then was. 

About the Eighth month, 1831, that very memorable 
year, my good landlady and true friend, Elizabeth T. 
Hooe, died. I had formed a warm friendship for her. 
She was a good, true, and honorable lady, and, although 
she was regarded as particular in pecuniary matters, the 
condition in which her husband had left the estate, which 
she had to settle, rendered this necessary. She never 
once urged payment of me, but only let me know, on the 
day my rent was due, that it would be a convenience to 
her to have it, when I was ready to pay, which was very 

I was just getting my school under good way, and 
now the property, both my residence and the house con- 
taining my school and lecture-rooms, would have to be 
sold. It was a great derangement of my plans. 

The sale was not to be till the following spring, 1832, 
so I resolved to lay up all I could by that time for a first 
payment, and endeavor to buy it, in which proposition 
Phineas Janney and Robert L Taylor, two of the trustees 
that had the selling of the property, encouraged me. They 
told me how high they thought I might safely go in my 
bids. The day of sale came. I felt anxious. It was a 
new scene to me. The house where we lived was first of- 
fered, and I ran it up to what Phineas Janney and Robert 



I. Taylor had thought was a fair price, but the bidding 
kept on above that. I did not know who was bidding 
against me. I reflected that moving would be attended 
with a good deal of expense, as well as inconvenience, and 
as I was already nicely fixed there, I concluded to run it 
up to one thousand dollars beyond the limits these friends 
had named, and if the bidding went above that I would 
think it was not best for me to have it, and let it go. It 
did go beyond the extra one thousand dollars, and was 
struck off to John Lloyd. It was a great disappointment 
to me, my thoughts having been running on it for so long. 

The sale was some time in the Twelfth month, and 
although I paid my rent quarterly, I rented the property 
by the year, and Robert L Taylor, who was very kind to 
me, took the pains to let me know that I could not be dis- 
turbed in my possession, without having three months' 
notice before the close of the current year, which would 
allow me to remain where I was until Eighth month, 1833. 

On the afternoon of the day of sale, Margaret and I 
went all over the town to try and find a suitable place for 
our school. We looked at a place nearly opposite Robert 
H. Miller's residence, on St. Asaph street, and I felt sick 
at heart, — almost thought we had come to an end. But 
I remembered it was done for the best. I thought it was 
not right to bid higher, and I was strengthened to believe 
that there would be some way to get along. 

I could not sleep much that night. As I lay thinking 
of the day just passed, it was presented to my mind that 
the Bank of Potomac, that had the selling of the property, 
had bid in the lot running through the square on which 
the sugar-house and my school-house both stood, for three 
thousand dollars ; and I saw how I could convert the 
sugar-house into a comfortable roomy dwelling. I got up 



early the next morning and went down to see Phineas 
Janney, and told him I would take the property at the 
price at which it was bid in, to which he consented. I imme- 
diately engaged George Swain to do the carpenter work, 
and Robert Brockett to do the brick work, for although 
the law allowed me possession of the property till Eighth 
month, 1833, I assured John Lloyd that I would get out 
of the house at the earliest practicable moment. The 
building containing the school and lecture-rooms remained 

My school was full, having one hundred scholars or 
over ; my lecture-class was large, and I was enabled to 
meet the payment of the bills as they came in, to my aston- 
ishment, occasionally giving my note for a few months, 
which never failed to be met. The bills from Margaret's 
scholars, her school being full also, helped me considerably. 

I did the planning as the work progressed, consulting 
with Swain, which required a good deal of time and 
thought. Teachers at that day had not the convenience of 
metallic pens, but were dependent upon the "gray goose 
quill." So, five days in the week, I made at noon one 
hundred quills into pens, besides repairing the old ones, so 
as to give every student a new pen when he began the 
writing exercise in the afternoon, and to have some to give 
them when the others needed repairs. I kept my knife 
sharp, and learned to be very expert at this business, a 
part of my education and training for which I since have 
had no use. 

The kind liberality of Daniel B. Smith and W. & A. 
Mason, of Philadelphia, and of George S. Hough and 
John P. Cowman, of Alexandria, which I have before 
referred to, preserved me from feeling peculiarly pinched 
or humiliated under a pressing debt. I feel grateful 



to them all under a retrospect of their kindness to this 

After the house was finished, A. C. Cazenove called 
one day, and I showed him all through the building, and 
when he saw how nicely it was arranged, and what a com- 
fortable residence and how complete an establishment it 
was for a boarding-school, he stopped and looked at me with 
an expression of astonishment on his countenance, and 
said, " Well, Mr. Hallowell, how came you to think of 
all this ? Did you do it by Algebra ?" 

The lumber materials were obtained of Benjamin 
Waters and George H. Smoot ; the plastering was done by 
Tyler ; the painting by Higden. George Swain engaged 
employees, plasterer, painter, slater, etc., and got the house 
finished so that we moved into it in Fifth month, 1833. 
George Swain and I had but one difference of importance 
in all the many changes that had to be made. It will be 
understood that all the inside wood-work, floors, etc., had 
to be taken out, leaving the four outside walls and a cross 
wall (all of which were good), standing, with the openings 
that had existed for doors and windows, and we had to ar- 
range the stories and the openings for doors and windows 
anew. The cross wall was about one-third of the way 
across the building from the west wall. 

The openings in the walls did not correspond, and 
to avoid too many cuttings that would weaken it, George 
proposed to have the passage on the second floor to go 
diagonally from one of the then existing openings to 
another, which of course would make it not parallel to 
the outside walls. This my mathematical organ could 
not reconcile, and I insisted upon having a new opening 
made, so as to avoid this unsightly appearance, which he 



reluctantly had done, and it harmed nothing. He after- 
wards acknowledged that mine was the right plan. 

Although I was so much disappointed and discouraged 
at not getting the property I so much wanted, I was 
far better accommodated in every respect with my present 
buildings than I could haye been with the one I desired 
to haye, the present one affording comfortable rooms for 
so many more boarders, thus increasing the means of 
paying for it. The remembrance of the circumstances 
connected with this whole proceeding has many times 
been a source of encouragement and strength to me, 
proving that straightforward integrity of purpose will 
come out right in the end. 

On the 8th of Eleventh month, 1835, more than two 
years after my purchase of the property, I received a 
characteristic note from Phineas Janney, one of the trus- 
tees, asking if I would please to calculate the amount 
of three thousand dollars, at interest for so many years, 
months, and days, the time being exactly that from the 
sale of the property to the then date. There had never 
been any writing, memorandum, or deed, on the subject. 
The note was handed to me in school. As soon as school 
was out I went down to the bank, and Phineas met me 
with one of those pleasant, meaning smiles, which showed 
the goodness of his heart. I told him I had taken his 
hint, and had come down to arrange matters, which he 
said would be all settled by my paying the interest up 
to date and giving my note at four months for the prin- 
cipal, which was very satisfactory to me. I did what he 
required, and the trustees made me a deed for the 





Scientific use of cannon balls — Touching the right spring — 
Increase of school — Heavy responsibility — A Lyceum es- 
tablished — Wearing cases — Need of rest — Giving up the 

My school increased in popularity and in the num- 
ber of boarding scholars. Robert E. Lee, George Turner, 
Fisher Lewis, and several others, who had gone from my 
school to West Point, graduated in that institution with 
marked distinction, so that persons who consulted with 
the authorities at West Point in regard to a cadet who 
was preparing to enter there, were advised to send him 
to my school to get him prepared in mathematics. On 
one occasion,* Senator Bagby, of Alabama, brought his 
son Arthur to enter my school, and said he wished me 
to prepare him to enter West Point. I told him I did 
not do that. I was a Friend, and disapproved of war. 
What they were learning in our school was practical 
knowledge of scientific principles, that would be useful 
in any calling in life, and if the students made any other 
than a good use of it afterwards, the fault was not mine. 
This was said very pleasantly. Colonel John J. Abert 
was present. He had recently returned from the Mexican 
war, and seemed to enjoy our conversation. His son 
William was a student with us. They wished to look over 
the establishment, and in going around we went into my 
observatory, which revolved on three cannon balls, rolling 
in an iron trougli. " Now/' said I, " this is the use I like 
cannon balls to be put to, a scientific purpose, and not to be 
sending them in an unfriendly way to our Mexican neigh- 
bors." They both enjoyed the joke. "Ah," said Bagby, 

* 1848. 



patting me on the back, " Mr. Hallowell, if you will make 
a good scholar and a good Quaker of my son, it is all I 
ask." I was on the point of telling him that if his son 
was a " good Quaker" he would not go to West Point, but 
I thought it best not to check the evident flow of good 
feeling in which his remark was made, as such a reply 
from me might have done. 

We kept as few domestics as would perform the ordi- 
nary family labor, and when there would be a fall of snow, 
inasmuch as there was a large extent of brick pavement 
to clean, the front pavement being ninety-five feet by 
eighteen, besides a great deal between the buildings and in 
paths ba^k, I took it upon myself to have this done. I 
would get up early, a half hour before sunrise, and collect 
all the spades, shovels, brooms, etc., about the establish- 
ment, and place them out of sight, but where I could soon 
get them if wanted, and commence myself to shovel off 
snow. Soon one of the early risers would come and say, 
" Mr. Hallo well, let me have that shovel." I would hand 
it to him very politely, and get another tool. Another 
student would come and say, "Benjamin, let me have that 
broom." I would pleasantly hand it to him, and get 
another, and so proceed till every shovel, spade, broom, and 
hoe on the premises would be employed, " oven peel" and 
all. I never gave up the last one, but kept it for my own 
use. When a student would want it, I would tell him, 
" No, such a student has been at work a good while, get his 
shovel," and there would be a pleasant struggle as to who 
should have the privilege of using the tool. In this way, 
time and again, we had all the pavements cleaned before 
breakfast, the students enjoying it, and going in to their 
meal in the fine spirits that pleasant and useful exercise 
gives. It was play. Now, if I had taken an armful of 



tools out at once, and asked the students to assist me in 
cleaning the pavements, some of them would probably have 
done it out of respect to me, but all the animation, hilar- 
ity, and zest would have been wanting. That would have 
been work. Everything can be moved if you touch the 
right spring. 

I now was out of debt. I took what I owed uncle 
Comly to him in gold, interest and all, and thanked him 
heartily for his kindness. It had been a great accommo- 
dation to me. I have already stated that he would never 
take more than five per cent, interest. 

About 1835 the number of boarders had so much in- 
creased that I was induced to make additional accommo- 
dations for lodging and for the school. We had students 
from fourteen different States and Territories, from South 
America, Cuba, and England. For this purpose I con- 
nected the dwelling and school-room by a cross building, 
which gave us two additional class-rooms, a teacher's room, 
and three additional chambers, that would accommodate 
from sixteen to twenty more boarders. It also gave us a 
larger kitchen, and rendered our establishment very com- 

We had of course to increase the number of teachers. 
Besides those who taught French, Drawing, Latin, and 
Greek, there were three competent and full teachers of 
English, Mathematics, etc., including myself, and in addi- 
tion two tutors. We had eighty boarders, besides the day- 
scholars, and about one hundred in family, including do- 
mestics. It had grown to be a large and heavy concern, 
and seemingly without my intending it, and against my 
wishes. It was my desire and effort to keep the number 
limited, and some years I had to refuse quite as many who 
applied as were admitted. From 1824 to 1842 I employed 



twenty-nine different teachers in all, four or five at once, 
much of the time, and four tutors. 

While my school was smaller, so that I could become 
well acquainted with each student, study his character, and 
get him near my heart, and I get near to his, the school 
was delightful, kindness and mutual confidence between 
the students and teachers very generally prevailing. 

I generally read some in the Bible at collection, before 
breakfast, sat a little time in silence at the opening and close 
of each session of school, and on First-day evenings either 
myself or Margaret read some essay, allegory, or poem. I 
continued these customs regularly throughout the whole 
course of my teaching at Alexandria. But when the 
school grew larger, and I had to employ a number of 
teachers, I could not know the students as well, and I 
would have more difficulty in sustaining the teachers' au- 
thority, than in any other part of the government, and it 
was more embarrassing, because I could not always approve 
of the course they had adopted, though I felt obliged to 
sustain them in it. Moreover, in my earnest efforts to get 
near so many students in feeling, day after day, and to get 
them near me, there was an exhaustion of nervous energy, 
which would diminish that patient forbearance and calm 
firmness, that are so important in the administration of 
discipline with young persons. The school would com- 
mence very pleasantly in the fall, but after it got so large, 
about Christmas, say three months after the term com- 
menced, my nervous energy would become exhausted, and 
there would be a seeming change among the students. For 
some years, I believed that it was the interruption occa- 
sioned by Christmas holiday that made the change which 
invariably occurred about this time, but in a careful retro- 
spect of all the circumstances, I am convinced it arose 



from too much wear and pressure on my physical and 
nervous energies. 

I endeavored and labored hard to secure for my assist- 
ant teachers the same authority, deference, and respect 
from the students that I myself possessed, but in this effort 
I could not always succeed ; and although it was done with 
the very best intentions, I can now look back and see it 
was a mistake, from not possessing a better knowledge of 
human nature. It must be the individual character that 
impresses authority and respect in the student, otherwise 
they will not be rendered, and this character cannot be 
transferred to another. " For a person to be respected, he 
must be respectable.' ' 

In the spring of 1838, brother Granville S. Farquhar, 
whose health had given way at the apothecary business in 
Washington, wished to go to the country and raise Multi- 
caulus, which were then much in vogue, and proposed that 
I should build a house on the land I had bought the pre- 
ceding year of William Birdsall, in Sandy Spring, Mont- 
gomery county, Maryland, and named Rockland. As 
mother Farquhar was about to leave Fair Hill, where a 
Yearly Meeting school was soon to open again, I was more 
than willing to build a house to accommodate the two 
families ; Granville and his wife Emily to occupy one part, 
and mother Farquhar and her family the other. I had 
then no thought of ever living there myself. They and 
my wife's uncle John Elgar, who then lived with mother 
Farquhar, and who kindly assisted, planned the original 

In the fall of 1838, mother Farquhar and Granville 
moved with their families into their respective west and 
east ends of Rockland, and settled there. 

About 1834 a proposition was made by Thomas William 



Smith, William Stabler, Robert H. Miller, Elias Harrison, 
John McCormick, Edward S. Hough, and myself, to found 
a Lyceum, and have lectures once a week on some literary, 
scientific, or historical subject, to be followed by a debate 
on some topic that was neither political nor religious. A 
public meeting was called at the Lancasterian school-house, 
back of my lot, which was well attended. It was decided 
to establish a Lyceum and to elect a President and six di- 
rectors. I named Parson Harrison for President, with 
whom I had been very pleasantly associated in the " Board 
of Guardians'' of the Alexandria free schools, of which 
board he was President, and I believe no other person was 
put in nomination. The election was by ballot. When 
the ballots were counted, to my great surprise, I was elected 
by a very large majority. At first I was disposed to de- 
cline the proffered honor, but Parson Harrison and the 
rest insisted so strongly on my serving, that I consented to 
do so. I had had no experience in an office of the kind ; 
it was, however an improvement to me. 

I delivered the first lecture, which was on Vegetable 
Physiology. It was the commencement of my attention 
being turned to that very interesting subject. 

Caleb S. Hallowell soon after lectured upon Meteorology, 
which interested the audience very much. The debates, 
too, were well conducted by Benoni Wheat, George S. 
Hough, John McCormick, and many others, and occasion- 
ally by Parson Harrison and myself. The meetings for 
some time were held in my lecture-room, which would be 
crowded. Lectures were given by Parson Harrison, Dr. 
Murphy, etc., etc., and the Lyceum became a very popular 
and instructive institution. 

At length a lot was purchased on the southwest corner 
of Washington and Prince streets, on which was erected a 



fine building, a little back from the street, with a pediment 
front supported by four fluted Doric columns, with a tri- 
glyph cornice, and surrounded by an iron railing, and 
a beautiful yard of flowers and ornamental shrubbery. 
In this building was placed the Alexandria Library, and 
there was besides, on the first floor, a large reading-room, 
and a room for a cabinet of minerals, and specimens in 
Natural History. On the second floor was a well arranged 
and handsome lecture-room, with marble busts of Cicero 
and Seneca, one on each side of the President's desk and 
seat. In this room lectures were given by John Quincy 
Adams, Caleb Cushing, Dr. Sewell, Samuel Goodrich 
(Peter Parley), Daniel Bryan, Robert H. Miller, William 
H. Fowle, and several others. I gave the introductory 
lecture (which was published), and several others after- 
wards. Attending the Lyceum was a very interesting and 
improving way of spending one evening in the week 
(Third-day evening), and the citizens would adapt their 
visiting and other arrangements so as not to have them 
come on Lyceum evenings. 

My boarding-students all attended the Lyceum meet- 
ings, I paying the fee for admission, it being part of their 
education. I continued President until I removed to the 
country in 1842. The marble busts spoken of above were 
purchased in Italy in the time of Cromwell, by one of the 
Fairfax family ; were brought to this country by Lord 
Fairfax, and had come into the possession of Daniel Her- 
bert, whose mother was a Fairfax. I purchased them of 
him for the price he asked (one hundred and twenty-five 
dollars), but permitted them to remain in the Lyceum 
while it continued in operation. I then moved them to 
my study in Alexandria, and they are now in my study 
here, where I am writing. I value them very highly. 




The wear of the large school, my lecturing twice a 
week, through nearly the whole term of eleven months, 
on Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, Astronomy, Geology, 
and Vegetable and Animal Physiology, besides providing 
for the large family, and principally keeping my own 
accounts and books, began to tell unfavorably on my 
physical constitution. I needed relaxation, rest, and quiet 


Removal to the country — Farming — Lecturing — Minor trials 
— 1 1 Aunt Kittie's ' ' sermon — Practical mathematics — Ac- 
cepts a professorship — Chemical investigations. 

In the spring of 1842, it was decided that my neph- 
ews, Caleb and James S. Hallowell, should take the 
school, and that I should take my family to our Rock- 
land farm, where, after some additions to the house, we 
moved in the summer of 1842, and I commenced farming. 

In compliance with my arrangement with my nephews, 
Caleb and James, to lecture for them upon the opening 
of their school in the fall, I went to Alexandria, twenty- 
five miles, every week on horse-back. At the close of 
my course with them, I accompanied my valued friends, 
Nicholas and Margaret Brown, from Canada, as driver 
and companion, on their religious visit to Fredericksburg, 
Richmond, Goochland, etc., in Virginia, for an account of 
which journey see my "Memoir of Margaret Brown, " 
pages 91 to 131 inclusive. 

In the spring of 1843, I commenced farming regu- 
larly, arranging the fields, putting up fences, planting 



trees, shrubbery, etc. Brother Granville, who had now 
moved to Calvert county, Maryland, to practice medicine, 
had planted both an apple and a peach orchard in 1839, 
during his occupancy of the premises. I now got my 
valued friend, Thomas P. Stabler, to assist me to plant 
some Seckel pear trees, which I had purchased of him, 
six in number, in our front lawn, near the house, where 
I had not long before planted a juniper bush, which our 
kind friend, Eoger Brooke, had found in the fence corner 
on my place, and which is very rare in these parts. 
There was very little other shrubbery. One Fourth-day 
morning, Margaret wanted the yard mowed, and I got 
my man Samuel to mow it. I went around with him 
and pointed out each of the six Seckel pear trees, and a 
hen that was sitting by the juniper bush, and charged 
him to be particularly careful not to injure any of them, 
but to stop the scythe when far enough off to leave them 
safe. I then went to my chamber to get ready for meet- 
ing, and on my return in about one hour, going to see 
how " Sammy " came on, I found he had cut down five 
of the six pear trees, and had cut the hen's head off! 
I was glad it was meeting morning. I got right in my 
carriage, without saying a word, being afraid to speak, 
for fear, as it was done, and speaking could do no good, 
I might say too much. 

Now, Samuel was a very good, obedient hand ; is my 
neighbor at this time, and a fine man, with several chil- 
dren grown, but he was then a great beau, would sit up 
and sing and dance all night, and then sleep over his 
scythe in the day, swinging it mechanically, and only 
knew when he came up to the pear tree by the jar it 
occasioned, awakening him. It w ¥ as this trait that ren- 
dered colored people, at that day much more than at 



present, only muscle. They needed an intelligent mind to 
direct them continually. Now, happily, the mind and 
muscle are becoming blended in the same person. 

The same year, 1843, I commenced ditching, under- 
draining, and removing the bushes and rocks from eight 
acres of meadow land on a part of the place called Cen- 
treville, and had it plowed and prepared for seeding in 
timothy in the fall. The manures and work expended 
on it cost one hundred and thirty-six dollars — seventeen 
dollars an acre — which was thought by some of my neigh- 
bors to be more than the land was worth. I sowed the 
seed with my own hand, a little time before I went to 
Yearly Meeting. It was the first of my sowing. When 
I came home the timothy was up nicely. It looked like 
rabbit-fur over the meadow, and perhaps I was a little 
proud of it. 

One morning, before breakfast, I rode my horse Cato 
to see my timothy, and lo ! my colored neighbor Kitty 
Waters' pigs had been in the meadow all night, and had 
rooted it up dreadfully ! It looked all over as if it had 
the small-pox. I had to pass her house in returning 
home, and stopped, and in a pretty loud tone told her 
that she knew what pains I had taken with that meadow, 
that I had been working at it all summer, had sowed it 
with my own hand, and now, when the timothy was 
coming up nicely, her pigs had been in and had rooted 
it up shamefully, what I would not have had done for 
any consideration ! As soon as I had finished my hur- 
ried and loud speech, "Aunt Kitty," as she was called, 
in the most mild manner and kind, gentle tone of voice 
imaginable, replied, " Well, Mr. Hallowell, these things 
are good for us. If our patience did not get exercized 
it would never get strong. But the pigs ought not to 



have been there. I did not know they were there — they 
shall never trouble you again.'' 

There was a man that felt badly and greatly humbled ! 
I had just come from Yearly Meeting, and had thought 
I had made some progress, and this colored woman was 
away out of all reach above me, to know that the exer- 
cise of patience was essential to its increase of strength, 
while I had lost an opportunity that might have been 
beneficial to me, had I only possessed her wisdom. I set 
out and walked my horse home. I could not go in a 
trot — had not spirit enough ; fastened Cato by the horse- 
block and went in to breakfast. Margaret said I seemed 
dull, and asked me what was the matter. I was ashamed 
to tell her, but said I did not feel much appetite. 

"While I was at breakfast I remembered that I had 
some seed left in a bag, so, after the meal, which was 
soon finished, I put the bag of seed and an iron garden 
rake on my shoulder, rode out to the meadow, hitched 
Cato, and sowed the rooted places over with seed and 
raked it in well. It grew so, that in a month after no 
one could have told where the pigs had been. This 
sermon of " Aunt Kitty's " has been of the greatest 
practical instruction to me from that day. 

I may mention here that, although some of my neigh- 
bors thought I was wasting my money in the expense 
put on that meadow, I sold in each of the two succeeding 
years more from that meadow than the whole improve- 
ment cost me, one hundred and thirty-six dollars. The 
third year I was not here. 

Two other incidents occurred at Rockland, which I 
will relate here (although I do not remember the time 
of their occurrence) as illustration of the mode of my 
managing the hands I employed. 



My man Edward, colored, was hauling out the manure 
from the barn-yard, with a pair of oxen, and I observed 
he rode on the cart with every load. This I felt to be 
a wrong, but I wished to correct it without hurting any- 
thing. So, as he rode out with a load, an idea was pre- 
sented to me, that answered my highest expectations. I 
placed myself in the way of his return, and as soon as 
he got near me, I said, "Edward, how much dost thou 
weigh ? " He seemed a little embarrassed, and in a short 
time said, " About one hundred and seventy pounds." 
"One hundred and seventy pounds !" I responded. "How 
many loads dost thou take out in a day?" — "Twelve." 
" Well, now, suppose thou wast to put one hundred and 
seventy pounds more manure on the cart, and thou walk 
out. Dost thou think the oxen would know the differ- 
ence ? " — " Oh, no." — " Then there would be one hundred 
and seventy pounds more manure each load in the field, 
wouldn't there ? " — " So there w T ould. I never thought of 
that." — " Then in six loads there would be ten hundred 
and tw T enty pounds more, or half a ton more manure 
taken to the field, which is as much as another load. In 
twelve loads there w r ould be a ton, or two loads more 
each day, and in six days twelve loads more, or a day's 
work, without being any harder for the oxen." — "So it 
would! I never thought of all that. I will walk out 
after this." He seemed pleased with the discovery, and 
even to think better of me afterwards. 

I never held more than one office in Maryland, which 
was sub-supervisor, under Edward Lea, of about one and 
a half miles of road in front of my house, between the 
two turnpikes, for which the pay ran out of my pocket 
instead of in. During my administration, a law was 
passed requiring every able-bodied man to work one day 



on the road, furnish a substitute, or pay one dollar and 
twenty-five cents, thus requiring as much road tax of a 
laboring man as of one who owned a farm and many 
horses. The law was very unpopular with the colored 
people, and I did not like it at all myself. However, as it 
was the law, and the road needed mending, I accepted 
the forty days labor that were apportioned to my divi- 
sion of the road, and notified the persons in companies 
of six or eight a day, to meet me at the road. I was 
there punctually, but my hands came in very slowly 
each day, straggling along till nine o'clock. 

One day I saw a man sitting for more than half an 
hour on the fence a little distance off. At length he got 
down, when it was at least half-past nine, and came 
slowly to the place where the others were at work. I 
soon saw he was going to do nothing that would be 
work, and I reflected a little time for a right way to 
meet the case. At length I said to him, " William, how 
old art thou?"— " I am nearly twenty-four."—" So old?" 
I said, " I thought thou could not be more than fourteen 
or fifteen."— " What made you think so?"— "Why, thou 
seemed so weak, so very weak ; would just take a little 
earth on the point of the shovel, and after motioning 
two or three times, just toss that little earth a few feet — 
thou didst seem so very weak" The others all smiled, 
for they had noticed him. "Why," said he, "I am as 
strong as any of these men, and can do as much work," 
and suiting his actions to his words, he started in, and 
by night he had done a full day's work, and was in the 
best of humor, as indeed were all my company that day, 
the little incident having seemed to do them all good. 

In the fall of 1843, after the death of Dr. Hall, Pro- 
fessor of Chemistry in the medical department of Colum- 



bian College, I was strongly urged to accept the vacant 
chair, which I ultimately consented to do, spending three 
days in each week in Washington. 

The class of students numbered some fifty or sixty, 
who met at eleven o'clock, Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh- 
days, and I had quite a large class of citizens in the 
evening on Sixth-day, which was pleasant. My col- 
leagues, Drs. Miller, Sewall, Johnson, and Lindsley, were 
very agreeable, intelligent, and social, but my situation, 
being separated as I was so much from my family, was 
not very congenial to my feelings. Besides which, the 
students, regarding Chemistry as of less importance than 
Anatomy, Physiology, Materia Medica, etc., came to the 
college with comparatively little previous study, thinking 
they could gain what knowledge they needed on that 
subject at the lectures, which was simply impossible. The 
examination each day on the previous lecture showed 
great deficiency. The class preparing to graduate con- 
sisted of about fourteen, and I thought I would drill them 
thoroughly upon " Marsh's method " of testing for arsenic. 
When the examination came around, and the Faculty 
were all together, each Professor to examine every student 
upon the branch upon which he had lectured, there was 
but one of the class that could give the process and 
rationale of Marsh's method of testing for arsenic, or was 
qualified to graduate in Chemistry as a medical student. 
I told my colleagues as there were, one hundred years 
ago, as good physicians probably as at present, without a 
knowledge of Chemistry as a science, if the students were 
well prepared on the other branches of the profession, 
I would not let their deficiency in chemistry prevent 
them from graduating. This was approved by the 
Faculty, and when I had signed my name to the last 



diploma, I handed to the Faculty my resignation, which 
I had already written. 

There were some incidents connected with my profes- 
sorship that were interesting. One evening William W. 
Seaton, one of the editors of the " National Intelligencer," 
introduced to me John S. Skinner, the celebrated agri- 
culturist and the founder of the " American Farmer." 
He interested me by his conversation very much. He 
was strongly in favor of sheep husbandry. He said, 
"A sheep can never die in debt to its owner. In its 
annual fleece and lamb it pays as it goes." The object 
of his visit was to get me to tell the composition of two 
powders from Germany, which w T ere said to be a certain 
remedy for the murrain in cattle, and as he w r as w T riting 
a treatise on cattle disease, he very much wished to know 
of what it was composed. 

He left both powders with me. I operated upon one 
and found it consisted of saltpetre and " Bole Armeniac," 
or Armenian earth, in proportions that I determined. I 
w T ent to an apothecary and got him to mix me a powder 
of these ingredients in the proportion I mentioned, which 
he did. When J. S. Skinner called, I gave him the one 
the apothecary had prepared and the one imported from 
Germany, and in appearance, taste, or smell, he could 
detect no difference. They seemed exactly alike. He 
was very much pleased. 

In John S. Skinner's edition of "Clater & Youatt's 
Cattle Doctor " the editor inserts the following, pages 91 
and 92, in reference to the preceding analysis : " I received 
some months ago, from a Hollander, some powders for 
the cure of murrain in cattle, the receipt for the manu- 
facture of which is a secret. I have thought that pos- 
sibly the chief ingredients might be detected by the ex- 



periments of an accomplished chemist. I send you two 
papers of the murrain powder, each being two doses." 

" The two powders were placed in the hands of Pro- 
fessor Benjamin Hallowell, as eminent for scientific attain- 
ments as he is remarkable for simplicity of manners and 
benevolence of heart. In a few days he was good enough 
to return one powder with an exact duplicate of it, and 
the following memorandum : 

" ' The powder contains three hundred and eighty 
grains. It is composed of three hundred and forty grains 
of nitrate of potash (saltpetre), and forty grains of Bole 
Armeniac, intimately mixed. Be it remembered that the 
above quantity made two doses, and the Holland direc- 
tions are, dissolve in a pint of hot water. Thus, we came 
to the following receipt for murrain : Take nitrate of 
potash one hundred and seventy grains, Bole Armeniac 
twenty grains, dissolve in a pint of hot water, and give.' " 

A distinguished Washington physician brought me 
one evening a cake of a whitish substance, in shape of 
a Lima bean, and about the size of a silver quarter of a 
dollar, which had been found in a cavity in the stomach 
of a man who died very suddenly. The doctor thought it 
was calomel, as the deceased man, though wealthy, had 
insisted on being his own physician when sick, and always 
took calomel. 

This hint naturally gave direction to my incipient 
investigations. I tried all the tests for calomel, but de- 
tected no mercury. I then tried the tests for lime, but 
there were no indications of a trace. I knew of no other 
whitish substance that ever accumulated in quantities in 
the human system. I tried different tests to no purpose. 
My piece, small at first, was fast wearing away, as was 
the night, which had now got into the small hours, and 



my character was at stake. I was to report in the morn- 
ing. I thought if I could only bite a piece, to taste it, 
I could probably gain some clue to what it was by that 
means, but to taste what had been taken from the stomach 
of a dead man seemed revolting to me. There I stood 
in my laboratory, with a piece of the substance in my 
hand, in a situation more readily imagined than described, 
regard for my standing as well as for my friend urging 
me to do all in my power, and my feelings protesting 
against it. My elbow, seemingly, would not bend, to bring 
the substance to my mouth. But regard for my reputa- 
tation got the mastery sufficiently to bring my will to 
my aid, when I took a bite, and found at once that it 
was magnesia. I then applied the chemical tests for 
magnesia, and discovered that my taste had determined 

When the physician called in the morning, I showed 
him the test of its being magnesia, which he supposed 
the man had taken after the calomel, and, his stomach 
not being in a condition to dispose of it, it remained 
there, corroded its coats, and formed an abscess, of which 
he died. Pure magnesia is a very unsafe medicine. 





Call to Philadelphia — Mental conflict — Lecture class — Pleasant 
friends — 1 ' Berzelius ' ' — Lectures on Geology — Visitors 
from home — Interesting excursions — A profitable mistake 
— Dr. Bartram's inscription — Philosophical ideas on the art 
of writing — Farewell to Philadelphia and return home — 
Pleasant occupations and resources. 

In the summer of 1845, I received a joint letter from 
James Martin and Dr. John D. Griscom, of Philadelphia, 
informing me that Friends there were about to establish 
a High School for the guarded education of Friends' 
children, although not to be strictly confined to Friends. 
They placed the subject before me rather on the ground 
of a religious duty, that I should accept the situation of 
Principal, assist in its organization, adjusting the philo- 
sophical and chemical apparatus that had just been pro- 
cured, and in inaugurating a course of lectures in the cor- 
responding branches of science. This presentation occa- 
sioned no little exercise of mind and embarrassment to 
me. I had greatly desired a quiet, retired, country life, 
with my family of five children, in order to bring them 
up to industry and mechanical training, as well as to 
agriculture, gardening, etc. I had fixed up a nice roomy 
carpenter shop with two work-benches and a full set of 
carpenter's tools, brace and bits, etc., for each, a pair of 
large shears for cutting sheet-iron, a large vise, and a 
superior turning-lathe, with all its accompaniments, and 
had also, with the valued assistance of my wife's uncle 
John Elgar, who was a skillful mechanic, machinist, and 
engineer, fitted up a smith-shop with anvil, bellows, and 



appurtenances. Under his tutorage I had already learned 
to weld, solder, turn, etc., so that I had made a tin-cup, 
had turned tops for each of my three boys, and had done 
many other things of like character, with a steady aim 
to get my sons interested in the practical use of tools, as 
well as in farming, it being my full intention that each 
of them should learn some mechanical trade. 

To break off from all this, in which I was so much 
interested, and leave my family, to go to Philadelphia, 
seemed to be a sacrifice that could hardly be required of 
me. Yet I desired to do just what was right and best, 
and I earnestly craved that I might be able to see 
what this would be. I had a letter too from John Comly, 
placing the concern on the same ground that the other 
two Friends had done. I felt myself to be " in a place 
where two ways met," and how ardently I desired and 
prayed that I might be favored to be directed to choose 
the right way, I well remember, but I cannot express. 
But still I could not see. I had enough to live on com- 
fortably, with my farm, and to educate my children, and 
what I most desired, as congenial to my feelings and 
higher nature, was quiet in the country, with full em- 
ployment, which, in the improvement of my farm and 
the means I had prepared for pleasant and agreeable 
occupation in rainy or stormy weather, I would contin- 
ually have. 

I remained unable to determine the matter for some 
time. At length I concluded that I would ride over 
and see Richard S. Kirk, and if he would be willing to 
come to Rockland and take care of my family and carry 
on my farm while I was absent, it would remove one 
difficulty. He consented to do so. 

Then I went to Philadelphia to endeavor while there 



to see what was the right course for me to take. I saw 
the beautiful school building on Cherry Street, near the 
meeting-house, which was not far from completion ; went 
all over it alone, conversed with some of the Friends, 
and things looked and felt more comfortable. On care- 
fully weighing the matter, the balance seemed to incline 
to my complying with their request, and I eventually 
told the committee I would be there on the 1st of 
Ninth month, to enter upon my duties with the school. 

I went on to Philadelphia a little time before the 
school was to open, to make preparations for my arduous 
duties. George M. Justice, whom I had known at Dr. 
Mitchell's, at the time of my fall, kindly assisted me in 
the putting together and arranging of the apparatus. 
I valued his friendship very highly, and received much 
benefit and instruction from my intercourse and conver- 
sation with him. Dillwyn Parrish came to see me on 
Seventh or First-day at the school-room, where I spent 
most of my time. The school was to open on Second- 
day. He perceived I was under discouragement, and he 
sympathized deeply with me. 

Next morning the school opened with nearly seventy 
scholars, from children seven or eight years old to boys 
of fifteen or sixteen. I knew the names of but three 
in the whole number, Francis Miller, Isaac Bond, and 
Clagett Page, sons of old friends in and near Alexan- 
dria, Virginia. To examine and classify these properly 
was utterly impossible under the circumstances. 

I got Isaac Bond, who had been teaching school, and 
had gone on to enter the High School as a student, to 
assist me. I was not long in learning the names and 
getting the school into some kind of order. James Mar- 
tin kindly spent most of the first morning with me, and 



rendered me all the assistance he could, but with such a 
beginning the order and discipline of the school were 
necessarily poor. All the reputation I had acquired by 
the success of my school in Alexandria, and which would 
have been of avail to me almost anywhere in the South, 
was here in Philadelphia entirely lost. I had a new one 
to form, and with such surroundings, the formation of 
an available reputation was necessarily slow. 

After about a week my boarding-house was changed 
from Arch street to the house of Henry and Mary Pike, 
No. 222 Cherry Street, who, with their daughter Lydia 
and son Thornton, made it a pleasant home to me. 

I soon commenced my lectures to the scholars of 
both the boys' and girls' schools in one lecture-room. 
These lectures were on Seventh-day forenoon, being the 
closing exercises of the week. William and Deborah F. 
Wharton, Dr. Shoemaker, and a number of others, at- 
tended. I would get the students to assist me sometimes 
in making preparations for the lectures, by which I 
gradually became better acquainted with them and they 
w T ith me, and I found in them objects to which my af- 
fections could freely flow, which w T as so essential to my 
comfort and enjoyment, especially now in the absence of 
my family. In order for me to experience this comfort 
and enjoyment, I then discovered that it was not only 
needed that I should love them, but that they should 
respect me so far that my affections could flow on to 
their hearts, and not be checked at the surface. 

Joseph Foulke, jr., came to enter as a scholar, and 
although he was young, yet as he had had some experience 
in teaching in his father's school, I invited him to assist 
me, and he accepted the invitation. We three, with Clin- 



ton Gillingham (who was my principal assistant), con- 
ducted the school for some months. 

It was proposed to me* by a number of Friends that 
they should form a class to attend lectures in the even- 
ings, to which I consented, and these lectures wera truly 
pleasant ; they gave me an opportunity of becoming ac- 
quainted with a large number of valuable Friends, and, 
what was to me more important then, made them better 
acquainted with me, as I was confident I was not before 
them in my true character. 

I never have had anywhere a more respectful, atten- 
tive, and appreciative class than the evening one at Cherry 
street in the winter of 1845-6, and I soon became sensi- 
ble of making my way in their sympathies, and of my 
becoming better known to them. James and Lucretia 
Mott, James Martin and family, George M. Justice and 
family, George and Catharine M. Truman, Dr. Griscom, 
Dillwyn Parrish, Joseph Warner, Jane Johnson, Morris 
L. Hallowell and family, Dr. Xoble, Thomas Longstreth, 
'William Wharton and Deborah, Dr. Shoemaker occa- 
sionally, Charles Townsend, Ann A. Townsend, and many 
others, were among the number. 

The room was generally full, and the interest evi- 
dently increased as the course proceeded. Much of the 
substance of the lectures was new to most of them, and 
they expressed themselves highly gratified with the op- 
portunity of attending them. 

With my lecture class I soon got to feel at home. 
It was very congenial to my feelings. I gave quite a 
course on Natural Philosophy, Astronomy, Chemistry, 
Geology, and Vegetable Physiology. I felt that I was 
doing good to some of them " by informing their under- 
standings," which " corrects and enlarges the heart." 



In preparing for my lectures John Townsend's son 
John assisted me some, a very fine young man of no 
ordinary ability. Also Dr. Hare's man, whom the medical 
students called "Berzelius," kindly volunteered to assist 
me, and he gave me not only assistance, but valuable 
practical instruction in Dr. Hare's methods of preparing 
and performing a number of interesting experiments. 
" Berzelius," whose real name I cannot now recall, was 
afterwards employed by Professor Henry at the Smith- 
sonian Institute, where I several times had the pleasure 
of meeting him. 

It was not my original intention to do more for my 
evening class than to lecture to them on Chemistry, 
Natural Philosophy, and Astronomy, but in these lectures 
I had several times referred to the facts that Geology 
taught, and when my original course closed, a proposi- 
tion was made to me to have a new class formed for a 
course on Geology, issue new tickets, and have the lectures 
in the meeting-house. The object of proposing to issue 
new tickets was to give me additional remuneration, as 
they said they thought they had received the worth of 
the former one. I told them I would reflect upon the 
proposition and let them know my conclusion. Their 
proposition embraced three points : To give a course of 
lectures on Geology ; to issue separate tickets for this 
course ; and to have the lectures on Geology in the meet- 
ing-house. Upon reflection, the first point looked very 
pleasant, but the other two did not set easy ; so I informed 
them I would with great pleasure give the course they 
desired, but it must be in the same room, with the same 
tickets. These lectures were the most satisfactory to 
myself that I think I ever delivered. Some sentences 
that were spoken extemporaneously, under the influence 




of an intelligent and appreciative audience, I remember 
to this day. "Matter is found in space, in every stage 
of condensation, from the first collection of attenuated 
matter to the dense center of revolving worlds." " Wher- 
ever circumstances are favorable to vegetable existence, 
there are vegetables found to arise, either by the imme- 
diate exercise of creative energy or the universal diffusion 
of embryotic matter." So great is the influence of an 
audience that is fully in sympathy with the speaker ! 

In one of my lectures I spoke of the organic re- 
mains in the limestone rocks, of which many mountains 
are composed, giving evidence in the perfection of even 
the most delicate parts of the fossils that the animals 
died tranquilly where they are now, which, however deep, 
was then the surface, and that those above have been 
successively deposited upon them through long circling 
periods of thousands of thousands of years. An elder 
of Friends' meeting met me on Market street, the fol- 
lowing Seventh-day, and expressed deep concern that I 
should hold out the view that the earth was older than 
the period assigned to its creation in the Bible, and we 
talked the matter over for nearly two hours, all very 
pleasantly. On my inquiring of him how he thought 
the fossils got there, he said they were placed there as 
they are, by the Almighty, at the creation. We sepa- 
rated in very good feeling. In my next lecture I went 
over the corroborating evidences pretty strongly of the 
two points, the great age of the world, and the present 
formation of rocks with fossils and other substances im- 
bedded, illustrating by what is at present going on in 
the Gulf of Mexico, and instanced the fact of a brass 
cannon, which is now in the Museum of Montpelier in 
France, having been dug from a limestone rock of recent 



formation, containing fossils, in the Mediterranean, near 
the mouth of the Rhone. " We all must admit," I said, 
"that this brass cannon was not placed there by the 
Almighty at the time of the creation, and besides, it 
had its maker's name on, and the year ' Anno Domini ' • 
when it was cast." This lecture was one of the great- 
est and most satisfactory efforts to myself that I ever 
made. I evidently had the audience with me in show- 
ing the great changes that the surface of the earth has 
undergone through the agencies of water and fire, so that, 
as Beattie says, 

" Earthquakes have raised to Heaven the lowly vale, 
And gulfs the mountains' mighty mass entombed, 
And where the Atlantic rolls, vast continents have bloomed.' ' 

J had said nothing to me on the subject since our 

conversation on the street. I had no idea, except from 
the general favorable feeling, how he was impressed. 
After I had finished my concluding lecture, and before I 
had left the stand, he came to me with his eyes beto- 
kening the deep emotion of his soul, and said, " Benjamin, 
I wish thou wouldst write a work on Geology for our 
school, containing the substance of these lectures." " Why," 

said I, "J , is thee satisfied ?" " Yes," he replied, " and 

more than satisfied." There was another Friend there 
whose soul was deeply stirred by this announcement ! 

Late in the fall of 1845 my dear Margaret came on, 
and brought our three youngest children, Elgar, Benja- 
min, and Mary, the latter about six years old, to stay 
till early spring, all of us boarding at Henry Pike's, 
which gave it more of a homelike feeling. Our son 
Henry went to school to Caleb S. and James S. Hallowell, 



at Alexandria, Virginia, and our daughter Caroline to 
her aunt Mary S. Lippincott, at Moorestown, New Jersey. 

After Margaret came on, a number of our friends 
kindly called upon her and asked us to take tea with 
• them, and, could I have risen from under the constant 
pressure of my school, I should have enjoyed it very 
much. She was obliged to return in the early spring of 
1846 to our home at Rockland, Sandy Spring. My 
friends in Philadelphia then seemed to increase their 
kindness. Thomas Longstreth took me to Moorestown, 
New Jersey, to see my mother, with whom he had been 
acquainted when he was a young man, and she had 
named her son Joseph after Thomas's father, since de- 
ceased. They both enjoyed the visit, as I did the ride 
also. On my taking out my money, as was my wont, to 
pay the ferriage, he told me, " No, that is my part ; it 
belongs to the carriage." 

Doctor Noble, one beautiful First-day morning, took 
me a distance of about fifteen or sixteen miles, above 
Plymouth, to see his friend, Judge Longstreth. We 
passed through Germantown, Chestnut Hill, etc., and he 
pointed out many objects and places of interest in con- 
nexion with the Revolutionary war. The Judge had a 
very fine farm, limestone land. We w r alked to a lime 
quarry at which there had been a " land-slide," that ex- 
hibited a clover root which had descended four feet below 
the surface, while, by a bend in it, its entire length was 
over fifty inches. His stock was some of the finest, I 
think, I ever saw. 

The most interesting part of the visit to me was 
(although it was all very interesting) when I ascertained 
that the Judge's wife was the daughter of my old friend 
(one of the Westtown committee), who had been so kind 



to me, John Cook, of Philadelphia, and sister of my old 
schoolmate, Thomas Cook, one of my very dearest friends 
at that time. 

Another of her brothers was on a visit to her at the 
time, who had traveled extensively in Europe, furnished 
with " scientific spectacles/' and had been on Mount 
Vesuvius, ascended Mount Etna, and visited the ruins of 
Herculaneum and Pompeii. It was he who first taught 
me how to pronounce the name of the ruin, which I had 
called Pom'-pe-i, while it should, he said, be Pom-pa'-ya. I 
have seldom in my life passed a day of greater interest. 

On another occasion Dr. Noble took me to his farm 
in Delaware, some distance below New Castle, where he 
showed me a field of wheat, the thickest I ever saw, the 
heads seeming as level as a floor, and, like a floor, con- 
tinuous, which had been seeded by a drill, with only 
three pecks to the acre. This was another day of great 
interest to me. 

James Mott, one First-day, kindly took me to By- 
berry, where we attended meeting. We had intended to 
dine at John Comly's, but he being out of the neigh- 
borhood, we were invited home with Cyrus Peirce, where 
we dined with the celebrated Robert Purvis. 

On another occasion James and I were riding pretty 
early in the morning, and we passed a man with his 
paint-pot and brushes, and soon after another with his 
gloves and gold watch-chain, and on comparing senti- 
ments, after we had passed them, we found that with us 
both the stronger stream of respect had flowed out to 
the one with the implements of industry. 

At another time Morris L. Hallowell took me to 
Byberry, when we went to John Comly's and had a very 
pleasant visit. 



Dr. John D. Griscom took me to some place near 
Frankford, perhaps the Asylum for the Insane, and on 
the way related to me the circumstance of a man, 
whose residence he pointed out, who made a fortune by 
his ignorance. He was a very peculiar man, very im- 
movable if he took a " set." He owned a property near 
Richmond, Philadelphia, that was almost indispensable to 
the railroad company (now Port Richmond), and 
they asked him to put down the very lowest figure he 
would be willing to take for it. He took his pencil 
and paper and intended to put down 880,000 (eighty 
thousand dollars), but ignorantly added one cipher too 
many, putting down 8800,000 (eight hundred thousand). 
The company thought the price was high, but were glad 
to find he was willing to sell at all, and, knowing the 
character of the man, took it at the price he named, 
drawing up an agreement in which the price was writ- 
ten, which he signed, and the company afterwards paid. 

Dillwyn Parrish took me to " Bartram's Garden," 
where I was highly interested in seeing the vast collec- 
tion of trees, shrubs, and plants, that were entirely new 
to me, and I was always a true lover of the variety in 
the works of nature. He showed me too a cider-mill 
and press, which had been cut out of the solid rock, with 
a pool in the same rock to receive the juice. Above all, 
he drew my attention to the stone door-head, with the 
inscription, cut by Dr. John Bartram's own hand, Dill- 
wyn said, 

u It is God alone Almyty Lord 
The Holy One by me ador'd 
John Bartram 1770" 

For entertaining such-like sentiments, he had been 
previously disowned by Friends. I had a good many 
thoughts as I stood there looking at the work he had 



done, thinking what must have been the depth of his 
convictions, that he was cutting there to perpetuate in 
stono, and I had a near and deep sympathy with him, 
for / was on the same platform as he, and am yet. I 
have never seen it since, but have frequently thought of 
it, and remembered the inscription from that day, and 
have felt greatly obliged to Dillwyn for taking me there 
and pointing it out to me. 

There were many other evidences of kindness extended 
to me, in showing me through the different manufactories 
of machinery, soap, forming lead and tin tubes, etc., etc., 
of the extent of all of which, although I was brought up 
near there, I never before had had the least conception. 
The Academy of Fine Arts, the Franklin Library, the 
fine statuary by Thorn of " Old Mortality " and " Tarn 
O'Shanter," were all sources of real delight to me, tend- 
ing greatly to compensate for absence from home. 

Benjamin Eakins, the writing-teacher at the Cherry 
street school, was a true, live teacher. He possessed philo- 
sophical ideas of the art of writing and the object to be 
aimed at, rapidity with ease, and thus grace. He would 
take the hand-writing of an individual as it is and correct 
it, not change it entirely, unless it were of a person just 
commencing to write. In this his idea was greatly in ad- 
vance of that of Benjamin Rand, to whom I went to learn 
to write in 1819. He entirely changed my hand, and had 
me to write exceedingly slow, training the muscles to new 
movements, while the old habits were striving for employ- 
ment, till my hand-writing became like the speech of old 
Ambrose Vass, a Frenchman I used to know in Alexan- 
dria. He had learned English late in life, and when he 
was old he could not tell which w T ords were English and 



which French, in the expression of his ideas, and mingled 
them all together in the same sentence. 

AVhen I asked Benjamin Eakins about changing my 
hand, he asked how long I had been writing. I told him 
about forty years. He said, "It will then take about 
forty years more to unform the habits thus acquired, and 
afterwards another forty years to acquire as ready a use 
of the pen as you now have. AVhat you had better now 
do is to correct your present training in the movements 
of your muscles by aiming at rapidity and ease." 

We had several trials at one of the standing exercises 
with his scholars, to see who could make the greatest 
number of a certain letter in a minute. He would ex- 
ceed me in every letter but x. I had made so many x's 
that I invariably made two or three more in a minute 
than he. 

I eventually got through the school-year, though by 
no means to my own satisfaction, but I was conscious of 
having done the very best I could under the circum- 
stances. Love is stronger than fear, and the moral power 
is the only true governing principle among rational beings, 
but it makes its way more slowly than the physical force 
that induces fear ; requires to be expended on a smaller 
number in order to get the hearts and feelings assimilated, 
and then these will assist in its extension, so that it will 
become a power that cannot be overthrown. To my un- 
shaken and continued reliance upon this principle in my 
tried situation, I look back with great satisfaction. 

I resigned to the committee my office of teacher, and 
returned to my family and farm at Rockland. 

I have omitted to mention the interest and congeni- 
ality I experienced in M. Fisher Longstreth, in connexion 
with the observatory on the Central School building. 


This structure was the result, I believe, of the united 
efforts of Fisher and George M. Justice, both of whom 
were enthusiastic in the science of Astronomy, and hence 
congenial associates for me. The observatory was sup- 
plied with a good transit instrument and a superior astro- 
nomical clock or clock chronometer, made by J. L. 
Gropengeiser, of Philadelphia. 

On my leaving Philadelphia, my evening class pre- 
sented me with a fine transit instrument, which I had 
learned how to use practically, at this observatory, and a 
Troughton's Circle, the method of using which I after- 
wards learned through the kindness of Lieutenant James 
M. Gilliss, U. S. N., superintendent of the National Obser- 
vatory, Washington, and Captain Morrill, an old and ex- 
perienced sea-faring man. 

I procured a complete artificial horizon, the mercury 
(contained in an iron bottle when not in use) protected 
from the wind by plate glass of best quality, and all 
neatly packed in a mahogany box. 

The transit instrument would be of comparatively 
little use without a chronometer. A little before this 
time, my valued and beloved uncle Comly Shoemaker 
died, and, having no children, left to each of his numer- 
ous nephews and nieces a residuary legacy, of which my 
share was two hundred and fifty dollars. I immediately 
requested George M. Justice to order of Gropengeiser an 
astronomical clock, similar to that at the observatory, 
which it seemed to give him pleasure to do. I paid for 
this out of my uncle's legacy, and I always regarded the 
chronometer as a present and remembrancer from my 
beloved uncle. With the balance of the legacy I obtained 
a drab broadcloth cloak for my dear Margaret, which 
looks well yet, after thirty years' service. 



On arriving at Rockland, the first thing to do was 
to prepare a place for my transit instrument and astro- 
nomical clock, which I did, and mounted my two instru- 
ments, the transit and chronometer, as soon as they 

Then, with my farm to occupy us in pleasant weather, 
the carpenter-shoj), turning-lathe, and smith-shop to em- 
ploy us in rainy, rough weather, the observatory of clear 
evenings, and the library, etc., of other evenings and at 
odd times, I would have everything I wanted to interest 
and occupy myself and children, and to give them a 
good practical education. 


Interrupted plans — Resumes the charge of the Alexandria 
boarding-school — A well-spent vacation — Fitting up a 
laboratory — Lectures at Smithsonian Institute — Pleasant 
prospects interrupted by failing health — Disposes of his 
school property — Favorite ideas on education — Consulted 
in regard to establishing the Agricultural College — Elected 
President — Enters upon duty in 1859 — Arduous duties — 
Health breaks down — Resigns the presidency — Successful 
experiments at the college. 

But Burns said long ago, " The best - laid schemes 
o' mice an' men gang aft agley." All this beautiful pros- 
pect had to vanish ! I was again to be disappointed in^ 
my plans. 

On reaching home from Gunpowder Quarterly Meet- 
ing in the Xinth month, I found a letter from my neph- 
ews, Caleb S. and James S. Hallowell, stating that they 



wished to give up the school property in Alexandria, on 
the 1st of then ensuing Eleventh month. With so short 
a notice there seemed no prudent way to do but for me to 
go with my family to Alexandria, and take charge of it. 
This was a severe and unexpected turn of affairs, to have 
to leave all at Rockland, just as I had got them fixed 
to my mind, but I was comforted in the belief that He 
who had been with me in former trouble, would not leave 
me now, and that there would still be a way to get along. 
I wrote to them immediately, that I would comply with 
their wishes, and this I tried to do in every respect, 
throughout the entire arrangements, returning to Alex- 
andria, my family with me, the latter part of the Tenth 
month, 1846. 

Using my experience when we had had eleven months' 
school, from the 1st of Ninth month to the 1st of the 
next Eighth month, I remembered that the most sickness 
we had in a term was in the first and last months, the 
Ninth and Seventh. I, therefore, determined to include 
these two months in vacation, and have the school term 
of nine months' duration. I also thought it right, from 
principle, to have it stated in my printed circulars that 
the use of tobacco in any form, while at school, would 
not be allowed, and that no one need apply for admis- 
sion to the school who was in the practice of using it in 
any way, and was not willing to relinquish the use of 
it. I had certificates printed and sent out with each cir- 
cular, for the parent or guardian and student to sign, 
previous to the student's entering the school* stating that 
they had read my rules and regulations, and would faith- 
fully comply with all the required arrangements, to the 
best of their ability. 

From my experience, as the subject is now seen in 



the retrospect, if I had had less reliance upon printed 
rules and regulations, and made stronger effort to incul- 
cate and cultivate principle on this point, in view of its 
hurtful effects, the result would have been more satisfac- 
tory. For several years after I opened school in Alex- 
andria, I had but two rules. First, " Be good boys." 
Second, " Learn all you can." Every boy knew them by 
heart ; all understood them, and moreover, all felt that 
thev were rieht and ous-ht to be observed, the obligation 

«. © © ' © 

to which, also, I took frequent occasion to inculcate. My 
school never was in better order than when under these 
simple rules. 

We commenced our school with a small number of 
scholars, of course, but it gradually filled up, and it was 
not long before we had more applicants than we could 

In 18-47, I had an observatory built adjoining my 
school-room on the west, planned with the assistance of my 
valued friend, Thomas William Smith, and mounted my 
transit instrument and a fine refracting telescope, which I 
had purchased of my nephews. Gropengeiser himself 
came on from Philadelphia, to mount the astronomical 
clock, which was a most beautiful instrument, with a mer- 
curial pendulum and a glass door, through which to see the 
vibrations. The observatory was a cylinder, about ten 
feet in diameter, revolving on cannon-balls, rolling in an 
iron trough, which enabled us to see in all directions. It 
was very convenient, and we endeavored to make it ser- 
viceable to ourselves and others, in the advancement of 
science. My son Henry has now a book containing draw- 
ings of the solar spots, made by him continuously, so as to 
show their changes for several months in 1848 and 1849, 
which Professor Holden, of the National Observatory, 



when he saw them at our house, pronounced valuable. In 
the vacation of that year, 1847, I went to New Haven 
and spent some time in the laboratory of Yale College, 
under Professor Benjamin Silliman, jr., in gaining instruc- 
tion in practical analysis of minerals, soils, etc., the first 
instruction in practical chemistry I had ever received, and 
it was very interesting and useful to me. I then went to 
Boston, to the laboratory of Professor Charles T. Jackson, 
of u Ether " memory, with the view of getting an insight 
into the best methods of analyzing soils. He had known 
of me, and entered into my wishes with enthusiastic ardor. 
I never had had such a teacher, and I heard him tell his 
wife, who happened in his laboratory while I was there, 
that he had never had a student that learned so much in 
the same time. The fact was, I was prepared to learn. 

My former experience and general acquaintance with 
chemical principles enabled me to classify every new fact 
or idea, and arrange it permanently in my stock of chem- 
ical knowledge, in harmony with the oft-quoted remark, 
that " the more a person knows when he leaves home to 
travel, the more he can bring back with him." 

Dr. Jackson had made a geological survey of the State 
of New Hampshire, and he was afterwards employed by 
the National Government to explore and survey the cop- 
per regions, on the confines of Lake Superior. He gave 
me a finger-ring when on a visit to me at Alexandria, ex- 
hibiting beautifully the manner in which silver exists in 
copper, each metal pure to the line. I regarded him as 
the best-informed practical chemist in the country. 

These two courses of instruction at Yale and Boston 
were of very great advantage to me. On my return I 
fitted up a room for a laboratory on the plan of Dr. Jack- 
son's, with a " breast furnace," pneumatic cistern, sand- 



bath, separating bottle, washing bottle, and all the most 
approved appliances for chemical manipulations. I pre- 
pared the tests of Fresenius, made some chloroform, gun- 
cotton, etc., etc., and was ready to instruct the students 
pretty fully in chemical analysis. I had the pleasure, 
when it was completed, of showing my laboratory and its 
furniture and fixtures to Dr. Jackson, who was highly 
pleased with it, and regarded the imitation of his, compli- 

I instructed the students in chemical analysis myself, 
until 1849, when my other duties required so much of my 
attention that I had not time for this, and then, at Dr. 
Jackson's recommendation, I employed one of his former 
students, George L Dickinson, to take charge of the labo- 
ratory, and give instruction to the students in practical 

I may mention here, that the last year of our school, 
1857-8, we were compelled to refuse over one hundred 

Edward H. Magill, President of Swarthmore College, 
was a teacher in my school during the term of 1848-9. 

In the fall of 1849 it was proposed that my son Henry, 
and Francis Miller, who had been a student with me at 
Philadelphia, and afterward a tutor in my school in Alex- 
andria, should join me in conducting my boarding-school ; 
and as I desired they should receive the best possible qual- 
ification, to be of the most service to the scholars, it was 
decided that they should go through a regular course at 
Yale College. They entered the sophomore class in the 
fall of 1849, and on their leaving home, Mahlon Kirk, jr., 
George Newbold, Emmor Roberts, and Samuel Conard, all 
of whom had been scholars in the institution, assisted me, 
in addition to Latin. Greek, French, and drawing teachers. 



I think it but just to say that Mahlon Kirk was the 
most reliable and efficient aid, at every point where I 
needed assistance, that I ever had, it being his whole aim 
and steady effort to carry out my views in the interests 
of the students, and to render me practical assistance 
and relief, for which kindness and favor I feel grateful 
to him to this day. 

I obtained a very complete compound microscope, 
with a Camera Lucida for drawing magnified images of 
small objects. I also procured a superior solar micro- 
scope, with polarizing apparatus, very complete, exhibit- 
ing some of the most beautiful and interesting phenomena 
in connection with the molecular structure of bodies, 
and the changes in their structure produced by pressure 
or heat, in order that the students should have every at- 
tainable opportunity of informing their understandings. 

About 1854 I was invited by Professor Henry, Sec- 
retary of the Smithsonian Institute, to deliver a course 
of three lectures in that institution on Astronomy, which 
invitation I accepted. They were the first of that winter's 
course, and largely attended. I have reason to believe 
they were more satisfactory to the Secretary and to the 
audience than they were to myself. The hall was much 
larger than I had been accustomed to lecture in, so that 
I found it difficult to make my voice fill it, and those 
who have had experience in lecturing will know the 
unfavorable effect this has. Besides which, these lectures 
came at a time when I was particularly oppressed with 
my own lectures and school duties, and my mind and 
feelings were not in a condition to do justice to myself 
or the subject. However, all seemed to pass off satis- 
factorily, and I had the sustaining consciousness of hav- 
ing done the best I could do under the circumstance. 



In 1854-5, I built a house on a lot I owned opposite 
the boarding-school property, with the expectation of 
resting there, and giving my influence and assistance to 
my son, Henry C. Hallowell, and my son-in-law, Francis 
Miller, who after their return from Yale College had 
joined me as partners and joint principals of the school 
in its management and duties, so that I could gradually 
withdraw from it, and ultimately give it up to them. 

As I expected to end my days in this new building, 
I furnished it with every known convenience, and supplied 
it with all the modern improvements. 

The house was built larger than it otherwise would 
have been in order to accommodate Henry, and in the 
event of his marrying, his family also, while Francis and 
Caroline were to have their home in the old establish- 
ment. Henry and Francis were gradually ingratiating 
themselves in the confidence of the students, acquiring 
their respect and gaining influence and authority, and I 
looked forward to a near time, when we would be there 
all together, with a well-furnished school, observatory, 
laboratory, philosophical apparatus, and all appliances to 
aid the students in acquiring a liberal and extended 
education. We moved into the new house in the Ninth 
month, 1855. 

But this "air castle" was soon to vanish! Henry's 
health failed, and, it seeming indispensable that he should 
take a rest and recreation, it was thought best for him 
to go to Europe, where he spent eight months. On his 
return he married Sarah Miller, and they seemed nicely 
fixed in their new home, but it soon became evident that 
he would not be able to endure the confinement and 
arduous duties of a boarding-school life, so it was con- 
cluded for him and his wife to go to Rockland. This 



left Francis Miller and me in charge of the large board- 
ing-school establishment. My continuing with it had been 
wholly in order to get Henry and Francis established 
there, and as Henry had left on account of the failure 
of his health, and as I wished to retire, Francis Miller 
concluded, if he had to be by himself, he would rather 
have his school in the country. So I gave him a field 
of nearly thirty acres of Rockland farm, on which he 
built quite a handsome house for a boarding-school, 
called it Stanmore, and moved there in the summer of 

When Francis decided on this change, I advertised 
the boarding-school property for sale, with the "good- 
will" of the establishment, and sold it to William S. 
Kemper, of Charlottesville, Virginia, who had been for 
some time connected with the University of Virginia, and 
his two sons had been well educated at that institution. 
They took charge of the establishment, I leaving all the 
school furniture, the school library, apparatus, telescope, 
etc. They opened their school after the vacation, 1858. 

Myself, wife, and daughter Mary, our youngest child, 
were thus left alone in Alexandria, in that large house, 
with nothing for me to do, the worst condition possible 
for any one to be placed in. 

The arduous and responsible duties that had rested 
on me for many years brought on a chronic complaint, 
which admonished me that I needed rest and a change 
of avocation. 

William S. Kemper several times urged me to as- 
sist him in his school, and to lecture for them, for which 
he was wdlling to compensate me liberally, but I told him 
that besides other considerations, the condition of my 




health at that time, was such that it would not .be pru- 
dent for me to undertake it. 

I had desired for over thirty years to be connected 
with an educational establishment in which the muscles 
would be trained simultaneously with the intellect, in the 
various mechanical industries, and agricultural and horti- 
cultural pursuits, — budding, grafting, and training fruit 
trees, vines, and shrubbery, the propagation of flowers, 
etc., on which employment the vast amount of waste 
energies that I had witnessed among boys, especially, 
which were the ocoasion of nearly all the rudeness and 
disorder, might be advantageously and pleasantly em- 
ployed under skilled direction. 

Indeed, my ideal of an educational establishment was 
a combination, may I call it ? — of these different branches 
that I have mentioned, together with an education that 
would commence under skilled and enthusiastic instruct- 
ors in Natural History, as soon as the student would set 
foot from the door-step. What kind of stone or pebble 
is that? What bird? Its habits? Is it permanent or 
migratory ? If the latter, at what seasons does it appear 
and leave? What insect? (with similar additions). 
What plant, shrub, flower, tree? and so on with every- 
thing that comes into sight, as far as they go, the range 
getting wider and wider every day, and then, when any- 
thing new would occur, or be presented to them, it would 
be certain to be noticed and receive that attention that 
would soon class it among known objects. Possibly a 
Utopian theory. 

When the Maryland Agricultural College was about 
to be established, I was requested by one of the trustees 
to write out pretty fully my views of what should be 
the location and the objects and aims of such an insti- 



tution, and I complied with his request to the best of my 
ability. I recommended, as the result of my experience, 
that it should not be near a city, nor too convenient to 
a railroad station or steamboat landing. My idea might 
be gathered from imagining a very large ship or barge, 
with everything on board that could be needed, — Presi- 
dent, professors, teachers, physicians, everything the very 
best in its line, farm and all, — and then push it out into 
mid-ocean, as a floating island, to come to shore only 
twice a year, and to have no communication with it at 
other times. I then gave my views of the subjects to 
be taught, and of the objects and aims, a little as I have 
already expressed them. 

The trustees located the college near Bladensburg, 
about eight miles from Washington, and obtained on the 
premises a station of the Washington Branch of the 
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. 

In the fall of 1859, I was unanimously elected Presi- 
dent of this Agricultural College, then about to open, 
without having been consulted, and my name was placed 
at the head of the faculty list in printed circulars at 
the inauguration of the college, when I probably should 
have received notice of it, but that I was, for several 
• weeks, including this time, in Philadelphia. 

The plan and objects of the college, though not its 
location, seemed to be a step in the direction of what I 
had long desired, and it took such a hold of my mind 
that I thought it best to go see the place, and especially 
to have a conversation with the President of the Board 
of Trustees, Charles B. Calvert, in regard to my duties. 

The college was situated in the midst of a slave- 
holding community, and I first wished to know whether 
free or slave labor was to be employed on the farm and 



in the house. I was much gratified when informed it 
was to be tree labor only. 

I found nothing in their regulations that required 
duties of the President that I could not conscientiously 
perform, so I informed Charles B. Calvert that I would 
consider the matter, and give him an answer on the next 

In the meantime I was to come up to Sandy 
Spring, where my family then was, and so informed my 
friend Nathan Tyson. He, feeling great interest in the 
subject, and fearing something might have occurred to 
discourage me, drove from Baltimore to advise me to 
accept the appointment, which I accordingly did, and 
never regretted it. Though I was able to do but little, 
the appointment was accepted with the best intentions. 

I entered upon duty in the college about the middle 
of Tenth month, 1859. The college had opened about 
six weeks before, at the time of the inauguration 
already alluded to, under three professors, who had ap- 
parently been waiting for me, the appointed President of 
the Faculty, as Calvert stated, to organize the college, and 
prescribe the studies, discipline, etc. From the six 
weeks that had elapsed without regular order or govern- 
ment, or a classification of the students, a very heavy 
burden and labor devolved suddenly upon me, and in the 
earnest effort that I made to effect a proper organiza- 
tion, and secure a healthy order and discipline, my 
health gave way in about a month, under my chronic 
complaint, irretrievably, as I then thought, and I re- 
signed the Presidency unconditionally. 

I gave to the institution a first-class barometer with at- 
tached thermometer of both Keaumur's and Fahrenheit's 
scales, hygrometer with wet and dry bulb, for determining 



the dew point, a pluvimeter, self- registering thermometer, 
and other meteorological instruments, which I had obtained 
in order to keep a record of the weather, which we reported 
for several years to the Smithsonian Institute. These I 
presented, that they might keep and preserve at the 
college a regular account of meteorological phenomena, 
regarding it as an important element in obtaining a full 
understanding of agricultural and horticultural questions. 

I had an opportunity in the short time I was there 
of trying two experiments, which were an entire success. 
The students had each a regular working outfit, com- 
plete, kept on a pin, with hat above, and shoes or boots 
below, and such changes could be made in a very short 

They went out daily, in classes, to their employment, 
for an hour at a time, with just as much regularity as the 
classes in the other studies, changing in the same way at 
the ringing of the bell when the hour was out. In this 
employment they were under a skilled director. 

The first experiment was in constructing an ice-pond 
and ice-house. There was a small stream running through 
a thicket in a ravine in front of the college building, and 
a little distance from it. The students were shown a nice 
place to make a " breast " for the dam, and they were told 
if they would make a dam and excavate an ice-house they 
could have a good and convenient place to skate the next 
winter, and as much ice as they wanted with their drink- 
ing-water the next summer. 

At it they went, class after class, w T ith as much zest as 
they could have done to a game of cricket or base-ball. 
It was amusing to see the efforts of large students, who had 
never handled an axe before, cutting down bushes and 
trees six to nine inches in diameter, hacking them all 



around, and the awkward manner in which they would at 
first handle the spade or shovel, in loading a cart. But 
they improved rapidly, and finished the enterprise to en- 
tire satisfaction. 

The next experiment was with a strawberry-bed. The 
students were told if they would plant an acre of land in 
strawberry vines, and divide the plat into two equal parts, 
they might take their choice of the portions and have all 
the strawberries that grew on it, subject to such regulations 
among themselves as they chose to adopt, the other division 
being for the family. They accepted this proposition 
with the greatest alacrity, went at it by turns in the 
classes with earnestness and under competent direction ; 
and like the ice-pond, it was completed to the perfect 
satisfaction of all the parties concerned. 

I became convinced that all the labor on a farm of 
150 to 200 acres, except, perhaps, the original breaking 
up of the sod, could be performed by seventy or eighty 
students, under suitable direction, and also most of the 
farming implements made, if a wheelwright and black- 
smith were among the directors, with proper tact, so that 
it would have a relish with students, ultimately, by the 
competition it would evoke, even greater than that which 
attends the ordinary college games. This idea remains 
with me as an abiding conviction ; and how superior would 
be the result ! 

Such a plan would possess all the advantages in the 
formation of character, of independence, self-reliance, com- 
petition, invention, etc., that the college games now have 
for, as we all know, some one or two at present assume 
to be leaders or directors, so that the large majority of 
the students are as much under a director in the college 
games as in the industrial employment. 




Return to Alexandria — Trip to Canada — Finally removes to 
Rockland — Journey to the west — Indian affairs — Visiting 
tribes in Nebraska — Literary work — Reflections. 

After a month's absence, I returned to Alexandria, 
much enfeebled. We had been in the practice for many 
years of spending our summers at Rockland, moving up 
at the commencement of vacation and back again in the 
fall, of course not moving all the things either way. In 
this experience I found two homes were just one too 

It was of frequent occurrence, that, when in the 
country, I would want a book, paper, or something that 
was in town, and when in town I would need a paper, 
book, etc., that was in the country. So I became con- 
vinced of the correctness of the conclusion at which John 
Quincy Adams arrived, and to which he referred in a 
lecture he delivered at our Lyceum in Alexandria. 
"Man's nature requires/' said he, "in order for him to 
fill his true sphere and be happy, three things : one fixed 
home, one wedded wife, and a belief in one God." 

In the spring of 1860 my wife, my daughter Mary, 
and myself, which now constituted our whole family, de- 
cided to make a visit, for rest and recreation in part, to 
our valued friends Nicholas and Margaret Brown, in 
Canada, and some other persons and places in which 
we were interested. My niece, Jane S. Lippincott, joined 
us at York, Pennsylvania. 



Before setting out from Alexandria on this journey, 
we held a family council. I gave it as my judgment, 
based on experience, that as Margaret and I were get- 
ting advanced in years, we were less able to bear the 
fatigue and change of moving twice a year, as it pro- 
duced a continued unsettlement. 

Besides the inconveniences just stated, in regard to 
books, papers, etc., our places in meeting could not be 
properly held, while we were members of one and so 
much of the time attending another. In conclusion, I 
told them we could move but once now at most. It 
would be for them to decide. Our home might be either 
in town or in the country, — we could not have both, — and 
I wished them, while we were on our journey, to think 
seriously on the subject, and make up their minds. 

My dear Margaret soon decided that if it were to 
be our home all the year, she would prefer the country, 
where her three children and her grandchildren were. 

We set off on our journey, and a delightful one it 
was, to Elmira, Buffalo, Niagara, etc., and arrived at the 
latter place just in time to see Blondin walk the rope, 
and perform the astonishing feat of wheeling a wheel- 
barrow, standing on his head, etc., etc., on a wire across 
the Niagara river, below the Chain Bridge. After spend- 
ing some time at Niagara, we went to Toronto, and then 
to Nicholas and Margaret Brown's, at Pickering. They 
accompanied us on a week's travel to King county, to 
see John and Mary Watson, and William and Elizabeth 
Dennis, extending our visit to Lake Simcoe. 

We returned from Canada, after stopping a day or 
two at Niagara, on the American side, by Catskill, Ro- 
chester, and New York city. 

In our journey I had occasionally introduced the 



subject to be decided on our return home. Margaret 
had already decided. On asking Mary for her decision, 
she said, if I would get her a riding-horse, she would 
prefer the country. William S. Kemper had just before 
asked me to buy his riding-horse, Selim, a beautiful 
blooded horse, well gaited, a bright bay, with black mane 
and tail, both of them thick and long, which I at once 
purchased. It was then unanimously decided that we 
were to move to Rockland for a permanent home. 

I have many times since looked back at the seemingly 
little thing that determined this decision, and thought 
the hand of the Good Father was in it, for the next 
spring the civil war broke out, and I would not then 
have gone away and left my friends there, nor would I 
have been mixed up with and obliged to witness the 
incidents that occurred there, for any consideration. 
From the time I left Rockland to return to Alexandria 
and resume the duties of my boarding-school, the hope 
of being at some time able to return to my farm, and 
resume the improvements that I had begun in 1842, 
lighted up many a dark hour amidst my trials there. 
Now, this hope seemed about to be realized. I never 
had one feeling in sympathy with a city. My situation 
in Alexandria was a favorable one, however, because 
our residence opened to the country on the northwest. 
Still, like Cowper, in regard to the country : 

"I never framed a wish, or formed a plan, 
That promised me with hopes of earthly bliss, 
But there I laid the scene.'' 1 

We moved finally to our Rockland home, in the sum- 
mer of 1860, our son Henry and his family living in one 



portion of the house. A kinder son, and one more atten- 
tive to what he thought would be best and most com- 
fortable for his parents, no one has ever been blest with, 
and this can be said with equal sincerity of his precious 

During these last fifteen years, I have performed that 
long journey on a religious visit to the West, of which 
the journal I kept bears record, and in which I traveled 
three thousand one hundred and twenty-nine miles in my 
rockaway, going with it beyond the Mississippi river, and 
two thousand seven hundred and ninety-one miles by 
public conveyance, making in the six months, wanting 
two days, that I was absent, five thousand nine hundred 
and twenty miles travel. 

I have been Secretary of the Indian Committee of Bal- 
timore Yearly Meeting, and also of the General Committee 
on the Indian concern of the six Yearly Meetings, and 
have performed a vast amount of correspondence. 

As one of a delegation from New York, Philadelphia, 
and Baltimore, I have visited all the Indian tribes, on 
their reservations in Nebraska, constituting the northern 
superintendency, and have written the report of the dele- 
gates, which was printed. 

I have written the " Young Friends' Manual, " and 
numerous communications to Friends' Intelligencer. I 
have written also, and published a work on Geometrical 
Analysis, besides conducting a wide general correspond- 

My communications to Friends' Intelligencer, to- 
gether with some essays and paragraphs in a manuscript 
book, contain my highest and deepest religious convictions 
in unstudied language. The " Young Friends' Manual," 
too, with a little modification of a few sentences, which 



it is my intention to make in my copy, has the sanction of 
my present judgment. 

I have thus brought the history of my life up to the 
present time, and while I have been writing, the feeling 
has several times rather singularly impressed me, whether 
the " Me " that was the actor through all the long series of 
incidents, was or is the same that now records them 
for my daughter and other children and grandchildren, 
and I have concluded that the only connection between 
the " Me " to whom all these varied incidents relate, and 
the present one, is the combined effect, favorable or 
otherwise, that they have woven into my character and 
constitution, physical, mental, and moral, by which the 
present " Me " has been evolved. Every right act, word, 
or thought, made its impress on my character, and every 
wrong one its impress ; and " character being the stamp or 
permanent impression by which conduct is regulated," 
these all combined successively in their influence and 
evolved as the resultant the " Me " of any particular 


Effects of inhaling Nitrous Oxide — A mysterious package — 
"Citizen Granville" — Story of a ten-dollar note — Exper- 
iences with an original character — An incident of travel — 
Visit to a Normal School — Verses for a May-day picnic — 
Management of domestics. 

I will now refer to some facts and incidents connected 
with my schools, without much reference to the order of 

We never lost a boarding-student by death. We 
nursed a student through that loathsome disease, the small- 



pox, and several times a number of students through 
scarlet fever, measles, mumps, etc. All recovered, and I 
believe all were returned to their friends as strong and 
healthy as we received them. We had one student who 
broke the small bone of his leg, and two that sprained their 
ankles, which were the most serious accidents that ever 
occurred among our boarding-students, as far as I can now 
recall, although we had for many years from sixty to 
eighty at a time. The retrospect is very pleasant, too, 
that neither at Fair Hill, where I was a teacher for about 
two years, nor at Westtown, where I taught nearly three 
years, did a single death occur among the students of 
either sex. 

In 1830, Jonathan Ingham, son of Samuel D. Ingham, 
Secretary of the Treasury under General Jackson, was a 
student with us, and when I was lecturing on the nitrous 
oxide or exhilarating gas, he wished to take it. The 
lecture-room was always particularly crowded on the occa- 
sion of exhibiting the effects of the gas. He was a hand- 
some, sprightly youth, about sixteen or seventeen years 
old, and of a very fine manner. He inhaled the gas 
freely, stood a little time, then in an attitude as well 
adjusted as it could have been by a finished actor, 
gave a quotation from Shakspeare. It was done with 
all imaginable grace, and the whole scene was much ad- 
mired and applauded. 

On the occasion of the exhibition of the effects of 
the gas in 1833—4, several of the larger students offered 
to take it, and I was prepared for what followed, a pre- 
tence of taking the gas and then the exhibition of some 
premeditated feats, which I partially defeated by seeing 
that each one had a pretty full dose. The previous bias 
given to their minds, however, caused them to manifest 



a very pugnacious disposition towards me, and, being 
prepared for it, and pretty strong, I put them success- 
ively on the floor, to the great amusement of the audience, 
part of whom, I had reason to believe, knew what was 
intended to come off. 

The next student to take gas that evening was from 
Massachusetts, who had been a page in Congress. He 
was a tall, handsome youth, with gentle manners, and 
was a general favorite. He inhaled the gas freely, and 
then, with the greatest gentleness and affection of manner 
imaginable, put his arms around my neck and placed 
his cheek to mine, first one side and then the other, 
when I remarked that such evidence of affectionate re- 
gard was a full compensation for the pugnacious treat- 
ment I had before received, and, by the time I had en- 
tirely finished my sentence, he left me and embraced the 
stove-pipe with equal affection (fortunately it was mild 
weather, and we had no fire in the stove that evening). 
I observed to the audience that I had appropriated an 
affection to myself that I found belonged equally to the 
stove-pipe, w T hich occasioned great amusement. 

I never observed any inconvenience to the students 
from the inhalation of this gas, but there were some 
cases in which I was glad when the effects had passed 
off. Frederick P. Stanton, afterwards a member of Con- 
gress, who was at school with me* as student and assistant 
for several years, inhaled it a number of times, and was 
always affected in the same manner. He stood straight 
and motionless as a statue, the blood would leave his 
face till he was as pale as a corpse, and his eyes had a 
vacant stare. This would continue, I suppose, for two 
minutes, and it would be quite a relief when the return- 



ing color in his face gave evidence of continued vi- 

Two of my students who were at school together, 
both nice, able boys, were in a class by themselves in 
their mathematical studies, because no others could keep 
up to them. On fixing the length of their next recita- 
tion, when finishing one, I would ask if such a length 
would be too much, indicating on the book a long les- 
son, and neither would say it was, so I put it on them 
" pretty strong " in Solid Geometry and Analytical, Plane 
and Spherical Trigonometry. I afterwards learned there 
was a boyish miff between them, and they did not speak 
to each other during the whole time, and neither was 
willing to say the lesson proposed was too long. I never 
had such rapid progress made, nor such perfect recita- 
tions in this difficult part of mathematics, as by these 

two students. I have never seen J since he left 

school, and have heard from him but once, when he wrote 
me from Florida, not long after he left me, saying 
he was in the grocery business, "weighing weighables, 
wrapping wrapables, and tying tyables," which was not 
very congenial to him. Dear boy ! I should like to 
know his history. He was no common youth. 

For many years I thought I could not lecture with- 
out a white Marseilles vest and a red bandana handker- 
chief. One afternoon some unknown person left a small 
package at my house, directed to me, in which, on open- 
ing it, I found a bottle of cologne, six linen* pocket- 
handkerchiefs, of superior quality, each one having on it 
a drawing of some experiment I had performed in the 
course of lectures, admirably executed, with a very re- 
spectful, courteous letter, neatly written, stating how much 
the writer was " interested in your lectures, and how 



much I would be gratified if you would use the cologne 
and handkerchiefs," believing they would be so much 
more comfortable to me than the bandana I was in the 
habit of using. There was no name to the communica- 
tion. Here was a problem to solve. I must know who 
sent them. So I studied out and finally had my plans 
all arranged. I commenced my lecture, as usual, and 
was going on, when I took out my pocket-handkerchief, 
as I frequently did, held it in my hand a little time 
while speaking, without looking at it; then, when my 
eyes rested on it, I stopped with premeditated surprise, 
and in a lowered, slow voice, said "I am indebted — to 
— somebody — in — the — company — for — a — very — 
great — " and before I had gotten thus far, I saw a fan 
going faster and faster, the only one in motion, from 
which I drew the inference that, there was some one behind 
that fan who was particularly interested in the topic. 
I observed who it was, rounded off the sentence, used 
my white handkerchief, and went on with my lecture. 
After the lecture I went to my friend and expressed my 
cordial acknowledgment and appreciation of her kind- 
ness. It was a lady named Cox, from Bermuda, who, 
with her husband (they were then recently married), 
was spending the winter in Alexandria, and attending 
my lectures. She never knew how I made the discov- 
ery till her daughter, Laura Cox, came to Stanmore 
school, from Bermuda, when my wife gave her one of 
the valued handkerchiefs, and related the circumstances, 
much to the daughter's interest and amusement. 

About 1834 the Roman Catholics had a fair for the 
benefit of their church. It was held in a hall in the 
market house, under the charge of the priest. It had 
been continued for several days, when they had a sale 



to dispose of the remaining articles. The next morning 
after the sale, they were clearing up the room and emp- 
tying the sweepings in the street, the priest superintend- 
ing. As I was going to market, I met Hugh C. Mc- 
Laughlin, who was my Latin and Greek teacher, and 
also a Catholic. As soon as I saw him, I observed he 
was much amused. He said he had just witnessed a 
rich scene, their priest nonplussed by a colored boy. As 
the priest was looking out of the window, he saw the 
boy pick up a bank note from among the sweepings, so 
he ran down in great haste and called out, " Here, boy, 
give me that note, I lost it." The boy, as the priest 
approached, put his hand, with the note in it, behind 
him, and looking up archly, said, " Massa lose the note? 
How many dollar was it? What bank?" Seeing the 
priest was bothered, he stepped back, still holding his hand 
behind him, and, smiling, said, M I spec massa '11 fine de 
note dat he loss, in his pocket." 

On one of my excursions from Alexandria to Phila- 
delphia, about the time the feeling against the colored 
people began to run pretty strong, citizen Granville, as 
he was called, from Hayti, was on board the boat be- 
tween Xew Castle and Philadelphia. He was a very 
intelligent, well-to-do colored gentleman, deputed by his 
government to make arrangements for colonizing some 
of the African race from the States, on the Island. Soon 
after we left New Castle the bell rang for dinner, and the 
steward showed Granville to his seat at the table with the 
rest of us. There were two Southern gentlemen at the 
table, who remonstrated warmly against this. There 
were not a great many passengers on board that day, 
so there was one table unoccupied, and Granville, per- 
ceiving the dissatisfaction, and judging the cause of it, 



requested the steward to set him a plate at the other 
table, as he wished to make no disturbance. The stew- 
ard did so; Granville went over, and all the others, 
except the two Southerners, took up their plates and went 
to the other table, leaving the two gentlemen alone. 
They w^ere mortified. They had not known the charac- 
ter of Granville. After dinner all went to the 
upper deck, and the two gentlemen went up to Gran- 
ville to apologize. As soon as he understood their ob- 
ject, " Oh !" said he, with a manner suiting the language, 
" gentlemen, there is no occasion ; favors I write on mar- 
ble, insults on sand." 

In 1828, when our number of boarding-scholars was 
very small, a popular Episcopal minister, of Alexandria, 
came to my school to enter the name of his nephew, 
James A. Lewis, from near Charlestown, Virginia, son of 
Dr. John H. Lewis, as a boarding-student, to come in 
about two weeks. I told him I would place the name 
of his nephew on the student's register, and be glad to 
receive him. I was much gratified with this application, 
not only because it was another boarder, and he from a 
distance in Virginia, beyond the Shenandoah river, in- 
dicating that the knowledge of our school was extend- 
ing, but also because the application was made by an 
Episcopal minister of Alexandria, at a time when there 
was a good deal of prejudice operating against our school, 
on account of what were termed " Hicksite proclivities." 
I felt considerably comfortable that evening. In about 
a week afterwards, the parson returned to tell me there 
was one thing he neglected to mention, which was that 
Dr. Lewis desired his son to learn music, and to have 
the privilege of practicing upon the flute, between the 

sessions of school. I told him at once that that would 




not harmonize with the plans and arrangements I had 
formed for my school, and it was a privilege I could not 
consistently grant ; but that if it was his wish I would 
remove his nephew's name from the register. He said he 
would be glad for me to do so, and we parted kindly, 
but my feelings were not as comfortable as they were 
when he entered him. It did go right hard with me to 
remove his name, but I remembered it was a matter of 
principle with me, and independent of any other con- 
sideration, I wished the school-room to be kept quiet, 
so that the students could study, and if this privilege 
were granted to one student, it could not with consistency 
be refused to another. I therefore felt well satisfied that 
my decision was right, and gradually became comfortable 
under its results. 

In about another week the parson came again, accom- 
panied by his nephew, who, he said, had come to enter, 
and to comply with all my rules and regulations. My 
feelings can be better imagined than described. 

We had a succession of Dr. Lewis's sons, Fisher Ames 
Lewis, who graduated with much distinction at West 
Point, Charles H. Lewis, John H. B. Lewis, Magnus M. 
Lewis, and William H. T. Lewis, the mother continuing 
to send them after the father's decease, from that time, 
1828, till 1849, when the last son was entered, and he re- 
mained with us two or three years, making the whole 
time, since James first entered our school, about twenty 

About 1835, one of the students came to my study and 
told me that a ten-dollar note had been taken out of his 
trunk, and he had no idea who could have done it. I 
asked him to give me a list of his room-mates, which he 
did, six in number, including himself. I then charged 



him to mention the subject to no one until I could ex- 
amine a little into the matter. I kept a pretty close eye 
upon the movements of all the boarding students, and par- 
ticularly of the room-mates of the one who had lost the 
money. One Seventh-day one of these room-mates, whom 
I will call James, went to Washington, as the students fre- 
quently did, by permission, when they had particular 
friends or relatives there, to return on First-day evening. 
James did not return with the others ; this gave me a hint. 
I immediately set inquiries afloat, arfd found he had gone 
in the cars to Baltimore, and had put up at a prominent 
hotel, and I was impressed with a full belief that the bill 
was paid with his room-mate's money. Yet it required 
very careful proceeding. James did not return until 
Third-day evening. This was an occasion in which I felt 
I must act He was about sixteen years old, perhaps over. 
I feel it right here to mention, and the retrospect of it is 
very comforting and encouraging, that it was my custom, 
on all those occasions of difficulty, in which I felt obliged 
to act, that before I would invite the student into my 
study, to go in by myself, the doors being constructed so 
that no one could then enter, and earnestly crave that I 
might be favored in the interview I was about to have 
with the student, that all might be for his good, without 
any regard to the interests or popularity of the school. 
And in no single instance, when this precaution was taken, 
did the interview fail to be satisfactory. 

After such preparation, I invited James into my study, 
and the subject being an unusual one, and it having been 
for several days in my mind, I was favored with an un- 
usual degree of calmness and strength. We sat some 
time in silence. I then inquired of him why he had not 
returned on First-day evening. He replied he had been 



to Baltimore. " How didst thou go ?" — " In the cars/' 
— "Where didst thou stay in Baltimore?" — (These questions 
were put feelingly and very deliberately). — " At Bar- 
num's Hotel." — " Where didst thou get the money to pay 
thy expenses?" — " My father gave it to me." — "Is thy flit her 
in Washington?" — " Yes, sir." — " 2sow," said I, ''James, 
this last is information that I value, as I see from it the 
way of helping me out of a difficulty." Here I called my 
man, and asked him to bring up my horse and buggy as 
soon as possible, as I wished to go to Washington. I con- 
tinued to say to James, that such a student (naming him) 
had lost a ten-dollar note out of his trunk the week before, 
" and thy not returning to school with the other students, 
but going to Baltimore instead, and putting up at a hotel 
there, naturally awakened an apprehension that something 
ivas not right, and I am rejoiced at the opportunity of hav- 
ing my mind relieved on this point." I saw while I was 
speaking that he was guilty. As soon as I ceased, lie 
arose, and with tears in his eyes, said, " Oh, Mr. Hallo- 
well, I cannot go to Washington with you, I did take that 
note. It was the first act of the kind I ever committed, 
and if you will only forgive and excuse me, I give you my 
word it shall be the last." We were both affected. There 
seemed to be an unusual depth of contrition and humility, 
and he had made no denial of the act. 

I asked him to sit down, while I thought the subject 
over a little while. After a few minutes I said to him, 
" James, I am pleased with thy candid acknowledgment, 
and with the evidence of thy regret and contrition. I can 
forgive and excuse thee heartily on the terms thou namest, 
and no one knows of it but thee and me, nor shall any 
one know of it, as far as I am concerned. But the student 
must have his money. I must pay him the ten dollars, 



and charge it in thy bill as money advanced to thee in 
a particular emergency, and if thy father makes inquiry 
of me about it, I will refer him to thee, and thou must 
satisfy him in such way as thou thinkest right." After 
giving him a little consoling counsel, he left me. 

I paid the student the ten dollars, and when I pre- 
sented the bill to his father, who was then among the 
most distinguished and influential men in Washington, 
he paid it promptly, without making any inquiry, and 
so the matter ended. No student could have behaved 
better, or could have been more affectionate and respect- 
ful than James was, during the remainder of the time 
he was at school. I told no one. 

About twelve years afterwards I was called out of 
my school-room to see a gentleman whom my man had 
shown into the study, and there I found a fine-looking 
large-sized naval officer, who took me in his arms and 
wept. It was James, with whom I had the interview in 
that same study. We both wept. He was a Captain in 
the Navy, and at that time had command of a promi- 
nent vessel. As soon as he could speak, he said, " Mr. 
Hallowell, you have been the making of me. You have 
saved my character'' and his tears flowed profusely for 
some time. He is now dead. 

About 1836 Judge , one of the Justices of the 

Supreme Court of the United States, brought his grand- 
son to our school. He was, I suppose, about twelve or 
thirteen years of age, and an entirely original character, 
so that a new mode of treatment had to be invented in 
every case, like a new mould for different castings. But 
he was always truthful and open. I never knew the least 
department from strict integrity, when speaking soberly. 
There are two incidents I feel willing to relate of him : — 



One day a student came to me in my study and said 
he had lost a dollar out of his trunk, and he thought 

M had taken it. "Why dost thou think so?" — 

" Why ! I know he was short of funds last Thursday, 
and last Saturday he hired a horse at the livery stable, 
bought a whip, and rode up to Washington, and I think 
it was all paid for with my dollar." I cautioned him to 
keep this suspicion to himself, or he might do injustice 
to one of his school-mates, and told him I would see 

him again. In a little time I sent for M to come 

to my study, and he was soon there, with his pleasant 
smile and bright face. I had learned the necessity of 
two cautions in an interview with a student : first, never 
to make, even by insinuation, a charge that I could not 
substantiate, so that the student could say and think he 
was unjustly accused, when, if he was guilty, there would 
be the greater bluster. Second, never to express a doubt 
of a student's word. He would at once bluster up and 
say, " Why ! do you think I'd tell a lie ? I never told 
a lie in my life," and his bluster would be in the in- 
verse ratio to his veracity. I felt the necessity of great 
caution with M , for he was a boy of quick discern- 
ment. I introduced the subject at a distant point, and 
put the questions very deliberately. He had hired a 
horse last Saturday ? " Yes." Such a student had lost 
some money out of his trunk. " Yes." Just then his 
mind seemed to connect the two facts, and see that there 
might be some ground for suspecting him, when, with 
great earnestness and boldness, he said, " Why, Mr. 
Hallowell, I can tell you all about that. My grand- 
father told me, when I wanted money, to go to such a 
man" (whom he named, and I knew, in Alexandria), 
" and he would let me have it. I went to him last Satur- 



day and got a dollar of him. You may ask him." 
" Well," said I, taking out my pencil and getting some 

paper, " now, M , tell me what thou didst with it ?" 

" I paid fifty cents for the horse, twenty-five cents for 
a whip, bought ten cents' worth of cakes, of which I 
gave part to such a boy, and here is the rest." I 
counted it up, and it made the even dollar. " But," 

said I, " M , where is the toll ? There is a toll-gate 

between here and Washington, and toll to pay both 
ways." He straightened himself up, and, with a look of 
bold independence, and almost contempt, for the idea of 
his paying toll, said, " I never pay toll, Mr. Hallowell ; 
my whip does that When I get near a toll-gate, I let 
my horse have the whip, and he lets me through. / 
never pay iolir 

On another occasion M — — had been very trouble- 
some for several days, and one morning our man came 
to me in school-time and told me that M- had hid- 
den the w r heelbarrow, which he must have to bring the 

things from market. I spoke to M and asked him 

to get the wheelbarrow for Lucas. He was soon back, 
and I called him to my desk, which w r as on the platform, 
so that, as he stood by it, his face was a little lower than 
my eyes. All the students were still and listening. I 

said, " M , didst thou find the wheelbarrow for Lucas V 

— " Yes." — " Where was it ?" Here I could see his whole 
countenance struggling with the incongruity of the idea 
his answer would awaken, and his lip quivering with a 
smile, as he said, " It was in the clothes-press," which 
made the whole school laugh. I then asked him to go 
into my study. After thinking the matter over a little 
while, I went to see him, and, after recounting the num- 
ber of cases in which I had had occasion to speak to him 



for misdemeanors within the week just past, and we were 
now beginning a new one on the same tack, I told him 
I thought something must be the matter : he could not 
be well, and I wished him to go to bed and rest, for he 
had been very active, and I thought must be tired, and 
when he was ready to behave himself and be a good 
boy, to let me know. So I put him to bed in the guest- 
chamber, where he would be separated from the other 
students, and told Lucas to take up his breakfast, din- 
ner, and supper, full meals, for he sat opposite me at 
table, and I knew he was a very hearty eater, though 
very thin and muscular. As soon as each session of 

school closed, I went up to see how M came on, and 

on asking him if he was ready to be a good boy, he 
would answer with quivering lip, half-hidden by the bed- 
clothes, with a most pleasant countenance, but without 
raising his eyes to mine, " Xo, sir." So it kept on, I 
going up three times a day till near the close of the 
week, and Lucas taking up his meals. I felt at a loss. 
It occurred to me to ask Margaret to happen in his 
room and see if she could make an impression on him. 
I knew if he would once say he would be a good boy, 
he would keep his word. The next day Margaret hap- 
pened in, and went to the bureau drawer, and on turn- 
around she saw M . " Oh, M ," said she, " I am 

very sorry to see thee there ; I know thee must have 
been naughty, or thee would not be put to bed. It is 
always hard for people when they do wrong." — " I have 
not found it so, ma'am." This unexpected reply seemed 
to bring her purpose to a period, and she gave 
M up. 

Things continued so over First-day, now nearly a week, 
the longest " case " I had ever had on hand. M occu- 



pied my thoughts much of the time throughout First-day. 
I was desirous of effecting his good, which was my single 
concern. He was eating very heartily, and using no ex- 
ercise, and the mental inquiry arose, whether that was 
good for his health, which immediately suggested another 
plan of proceeding for trial. On Second-day morning, 
after breakfast, I went up to his room as usual, and 
asked- him if he was ready to be a good boy. " No, sir." 

I then took out my watch, and said to him, " Now, M , 

I have been coming up to see thee three times a day the 
past week, and every time receive the same reply, ' No, 
sir,' to my inquiry if thou art prepared t to be a good 
boy. This is my lecture evening, and I have a great 
many things to attend to, and shall be very busy all the 
week. Now, this day week, next Second-day morning, 
about this time, half past seven o'clock, I will be here 
to see what answer thou wilt give to my inquiry." As 
soon as I said "this day week," I saw a shade on his 
countenance. I continued, with all the indications I could 

manifest of being in a hurry, as I was, " Now, M , 

we must have regard for thy health. Thou hast been a 
week taking no exercise, and, Lucas says, eating very 
heartily of meat, etc. This is not good for thee, so I will 
direct Lucas to bring for thee as much bread and water 
as ever thou canst eat, and at this time, a week from now, 
punctually, I will be here again." I hurried out and 
down-stairs, but not till I beheld by his countenance 
that I had been favored to fall on the right plan. Very 

soon after school called I received a message from M 

that he wanted to see me. I sent him word I was busy 
and could not come. I would see him next Second-day. 
Through the day I received several messages from him 
that he wanted to see me, and to them all I returned 



the same answer. Towards evening, Lucas came and told 

me M was weeping, and wanted very badly to see 

me. This touched my heart, for I loved the boy, but I 
thought it best to wait ; so I sent him word that I was 
very busy then with making preparations for my lec- 
ture, but I would try to find time to see him in the 

In the morning I went to see him, and no boy could 
have been more broken - down and penitent. " Oh," 
said he, " Mr. Hallowell, if you will let me out this 
once, you will have no more trouble with me till vaca- 
tion. I will be a good boy." Then I knew I was safe. 
I let him go down, saying very little to him, and he 
kept his word, there being no better nor more orderly 
boy in the school. 

The vacation was about three months off, and as his 
promise was limited to vacation, I wrote to his grand- 
father that I thought it best that M should not re- 
turn to our school after vacation, as nearly everybody 
in town knew him, and he knew everybody, so it would 
be better for him to be at some suitable school in the 
country, where there would be fewer incentives to mis- 
chief and tricks. His grandfather took my advice, 
and M and I parted the best of friends. 

In 1847, after finishing my course in chemical analy- 
sis, in Dr. Jackson's laboratory, in Boston, on a very 
warm afternoon, I wanted to go to South Bridgewater, 
to visit the Xormal School there. I went to the Boston 
station to take the cars, and on looking in the car, I 
saw every seat was occupied by some one, coat off, fanning 
himself (it was dreadfully hot), and his elbows sticking 
out, looking as uninviting for a neighbor as possible, but 
so it was all the way to the far end of the car, where I 



found a double seat unoccupied, facing toward the door 
I had entered. I was scarcely seated before I saw a 
gentleman, appearing to be about sixty years old, with 
drab suit and white hat, in the same predicament in 
which I had just been, with unmistakable eyidence that 
no one wanted him for a neighbor. I could see his con- 
fusion and appreciate it, so I stood up to my full height 
and said, audibly and deliberately, " Here is a seat by 
me, if thou wilt accept it." He came directly up, with- 
out seeming to look to the right hand or to the left, 
with his hat in his hand, and bowed most gracefully to 
me. I inyited him to sit next to the window, as he 
seemed very warm, which he gladly did. We were the 
obseryed of the passengers for some time. Haying done 
my part towards an acquaintance, as I was out studying 
character among other things, I waited to see if he would 
second the effort. I waited but a little while. He in- 
quired almost immediately if I had eyer been oyer that 
road before, and how far I was going. I told him I had 
neyer trayelled it, that I was a stranger, from Alexan- 
dria, D. C, was out on a tour of obseryation, and was 
going to South Bridgewater to visit the State Xormal 
School. This seemed to " open his mouth." He said he 
was yery glad he had met with me, as it would afford 
him pleasure to point out to me the objects of interest 
on the road, as far as he went, which would be nearly 
to Bridgewater. He made himself yery agreeable, point- 
ing out the quarries of the Quincy granite, the residence 
of John Adams, the second President of the United 
States, a large mansion embowered in a thick groye, with 
a four-pitch roof, and the residence of his son, John 
Quincy Adams. 

The heat of the day was forgotten in his conyersa- 



tion, and a more agreeable, instructive ride I never had. 
I gained information which I held to be of more value 
than one hundred dollars cash in hand would have been, 
and I feel it so now, for the money would soon have 
mingled in the common fund and disappeared, but the 
information this gentlemen so kindly gave me, and the 
impress of his appearance and manner, have been a real 
source of pleasurable enjoyment, whenever the incident 
has been revived in my remembrance, which has been 
very frequently. 

I was highly pleased with my visit to the Normal 
School, and with the person at the head of it, whose name 
I am unable to recall. He gave me a great deal of infor- 
mation. All the students must have taught school at least 
six months before they can be admitted to the institution, 
in order that they may know their wants and deficiencies. 
There were about fifty of each sex in attendance, all 
neatly, but none expensively attired : the young men 
shaved smooth (didn't wear beards at that time), their 
boots nicely blacked, the girls' hair neat, shining, and 
plain, the dress corresponding, all mingling together in 
their studies and recitations, like brothers and sisters. I 
attended the recitations in Mathematics, Algebra, and 
Analytical Trigonometry. One student, say a young man, 
would recite at the blackboard till the teacher was satisfied 
with his knowledge of the subject, then the teacher would 
call a young woman to the board, who would continue the 
subject, and so on till the recitation was finished. I had 
formerly been much opposed to the co-education of the 
sexes, but this visit to South Bridgewater, and two subse- 
quent ones to Earlham College, near Richmond, Indiana, 
which is conducted on the same principle, not only removed 
my opposition, but brought me in its favor, by convincing 



me that the co-education of the sexes would secure two 
objects, which I have found of the most difficult attain- 
ment with boys and young men, when educated alone, — the 
avoidance of rough, turbulent, boisterous conduct, and a 
careful preparation of their exercises for recitation, par- 
ticularly with a judicious system of recording or " mark- 
ing " for the class, so that a deficiency in one member will 
lower the whole, as no one would be willing to let his 
failure, if he could possibly avoid it, be the cause of lower- 
ing the standing of the whole class. This system embodies 
principles that are in harmony with man's nature, and 
must work favorably. 

About 1848-9, my sister-in-law, Mary W. Farquhar 
(now Mary W. Kirk), had a school of girls in Alexan- 
dria, in Friends' old meeting-house, where Rachel Painter 
had formerly taught. It was her custom to give them 
every spring a " May-day picnic/' at the close of which 
she would deliver to them an address. On one occasion, 
she requested me to write one for her, which I did, as 
follows : 

Again returns the joyous May : 

Again this merry band I view ; 
Another year has passed away ; 

But still 'tis spring-time, girls, with you. 

And would you wish this spring to last? 

This beauteous May-day, mild and clear? 
No clouds your mental sky o'ercast? 

Nor winter follow, cold and drear? 

Then turn your tender thoughts above, 
Whence all this beauteous season springs ; 

To Him whose everlasting love 
One constant round of comforts brings. 



He gives the light that gilds the flowers, 
The heat, the life, that makes them grow ; 

The fanning breeze and fertile showers 
From His unbounded goodness flow. 

And, higher far, an eye to see, 

A heart to enjoy, He gives you too ; 
And then His love, so bounteously, 

To make you happy, good and true. 

. Oh, to His laws yield all your powers, 
His secret whispers prompt obey, 
And He will strew life's path with flowers, 
And make your year one lengthened May. 

It was received very favorably, and was encored, which, 
no doubt, was as much due to the recitation as the 

We had to employ a good many domestics, often six 
or eight at a time, and, as I suppose is the case in most 
large establishments, and perhaps in smaller ones too, 
there would sometimes be little differences among them; 
some would not perform their duties to the satisfaction 
of the mistress of the house ; and, as the plan I adopted 
looks pleasant in the retrospect, and has the sanction of 
my present judgment, I feel willing to relate it. 

In the first place, from principle, I was always kind 
and respectful to them, regardful of their comfort and 
interest, and thoughtful of their condition, which I felt 
was one of many trials and comparatively few comforts. 

Next, I made it a point to pay them punctually at 
the close of every month, so that they knew when they 
w r ould get their money, and had not to ask for it. Those 
whose wages were not over five dollars, as was generally 
the case with the female domestics, I always paid in specie, 
purchasing it for them for this purpose, during the banks' 



suspension of specie payment. I generally had their pay 
in silver half-dollars. I always paid them in my study, 
one at a time, asking the last one I paid to send in 
another. Then, when there would be anything not satis- 
factory reported to me during the month, among them, 
I would treasure it up in my mind till pay-day, and when 
the delinquent would hold his or her hand for me to count 
the money in, I would place one half-dollar in, and then 
recount the deficiency or dissatisfaction that had been 
complained of to me, and then count another half-dollar^ 
then more of the complaint and then another half-dollar, 
closing with the hope that, at the next pay-day, there 
would be nothing to complain of, which, indeed, was almost 
universally the case. I advised them too, at these times, 
about saving their money for a rainy day, if only a little 
each month, and how to invest it. It often made my 
heart ache to see the little the women had to save out of 
three, three and a half, and four dollars for a hard 
month's work, though these were then regarded full wages 
for the different employments. 

IJancy Gordon Franklin, whom I have already men- 
tioned as our first domestic, worked for us till we left 
Alexandria, thirty-six years, at which time she then owned 
three lots, all with good houses on them. She was a 
"woman of all work," washing, ironing, cleaning house, 
early and late. She was reliable and energetic, doing as 
much in one of her long days, and with her quick step, 
as almost any one else would do in two. She was always 
in demand, and had plenty of work. Her children, too, 
do well. Nancy is still living, and although older than 
I, was strong and active at last accounts. Nancy had 
been a slave.* 

* Nancy died in the winter of 1880.- Eds. 



Nathaniel Lucas, colored, had lived with Edward 
Stabler till he died, in 1831, soon after which he came 
to live with us. He was a faithful domestic, who also 
had been a slave. He first bought himself, then his wife, 
" Aunt Monica," then a grand-daughter, and afterwards a 
lot on which there was a good two-story house, on South 
Washington street. He died at the school, and left his 
widow the house they lived in and two hundred dollars, 
which I had invested for her. I paid her the interest, a 
dollar a month, she preferring to receive it in this way, 
until after I left Alexandria, when I transferred the stock 
to my valued friend, Robert H. Miller, who continued 
the payment of a dollar a month, till her death. She 
died in her own house. 

I feel much gratification, in looking back, at the com- 
fort I had with the domestics, and in the belief that they 
found a pleasant and profitable home with me and in my 


Convention of the friends of Education — Difference between 
work and play — Letter on the subject of the Alexandria 
water-works — A kind intention — Closing reflections. 

Some time about the year 1840, I think it was, a 
convention of the " Friends of Education " was held in 
Washington, of which Professor Alexander Dallas Bache 
was President, and Dr. Thomas Sewall and myself were 
secretaries. Professor Durbin, President of Carlisle Col- 
lege ; William Cost Johnson, M. C. from Maryland ; Stan- 



ley, M. C. from North Carolina ; Joseph John Gurney, 
from England; Francis S. Key, and a considerable num- 
ber of the practical educators of the country, as well as 
of the friends of education, were present. The object of 
the convention was to compare sentiments in regard to 
the working of the public school system in the different 
States ; to awaken public attention to its importance, and 
to make suggestions for discussion of modifications and 
improvements in the system. 

\Villiain Cost Johnson spoke for Maryland, and Stanley 
for Xorth Carolina, in both of which States the cause of 
education had been much neglected, and there was an 
amusing play of witticisms between them, each trying to 
establish the point that the most hopeful condition for 
the future belonged to his State. One of the speakers, 
\Villiam Cost Johnson, was a bachelor, at which class 
some hit had been given by his opponent, who said, as 
evidence of the hopeful future, that the ladies in his 
State now " smiled on education." The bachelor retorted 
that " in Maryland, the ladies not only smiled upon 
education, but upon bachelors too," which occasioned a 
good deal of amusement. 

This meeting was in the hall of the House of Repre- 
sentatives. The information given, and the remarks and 
discussion it elicited, were exceedingly interesting. All 
agreed in the belief that it would be a great aid to the 
cause to hold meetings to awaken public attention to the 
subject, and Francis S. Key and I were appointed a com- 
mittee to hold such meetings in Maryland, but, on making 
further inquiry, we ascertained there was really no school 
system in Maryland, and no foundation to build upon. 

Joseph John Gurney gave a very interesting account 
of education in England, which he admitted was in a 




low condition, but it was gradually receiving more atten- 
tion from their enlightened statesmen. 

I offered a resolution to this effect : " Resolved, as 
the sense of this convention, that it is of the highest im- 
portance in a system of education that the muscles should 
be trained and educated to industrial pursuits, simul- 
taneously with the mind, in order that they can ultimately 
execute the highest performances the mind can conceive, 
and the artisan and the artist shall be united in one person." 

Professor Durbin, of Carlisle College, opposed it, 
but in very respectful, friendly terms. He said he had 
been for some time connected with a " manual labor" 
school in Pennsylvania, and it proved to be a failure. 
I said in my reply, "It is difficult to meet an argu- 
ment based on the individual experience of the speaker, 
but from his own statement, the exj)erience he gives has 
no connection whatever with the object of my resolution. 
It is no surprise to me that his experiment failed ; the 
surprise would have been, had it succeeded. The name 
itself was sufficient to kill it. Manual labor would 
soon be, by boys, construed into hard labor, and it would 
be regarded as a juvenile work-house or penitentiary. 
Manual labor, mere work, with one's hands, is almost 
universally regarded as belonging to the lowest class of 
employees, while the industry contemplated by my reso- 
lution is of the very highest respectability. 

" Then," I queried, " will the gentlemen please tell us 
the difference between work and play." I saw he was a 
little surprised, and I at once relieved him from his 
embarrassment, for it was all mingled with the best of 
feeling on both sides. I told him I had reflected upon 
that subject, and was willing to give my views. That is 
play, no matter how severe the exercise or labor, that is 



done of one's own free choice and direction ; that icork, 
however light the employment, that is done under the 
control, direction, and authority of another. 

Before I concluded, I saw that I had the sympathies 
of the audience with me. What interested and gratified 
me very much was, that Professor Bache, the President 
of the Convention, called some one to the chair, and 
took the floor in support of the resolution. I remember 
some of his words : " The resolution possesses the length, 
breadth, and depth of philosophy, and I thank the gen- 
tleman from Alexandria for offering it." It met with no 
further opposition. 

The following letter, which I addressed to my valued 
friend, Robert H. Miller, since deceased, in answer to one 
from him, gives a little history of the plans and suc- 
cessful termination of the effort to furnish Alexandria 
with a supply of good water, for which it had been 
previously dependent on water carts to bring it from 
the " Diagonal Pump," and perhaps one or two other 
pumps, or on having domestics carry it in buckets or 
tubs, on their heads. A charter of the company was 
obtained from the Virginia Legislature, Third month 
22d, 1850. 

Sandy Speing, Md., Fourth mo. 14th, 187 S. 
Deae Cousin Robeet : 

The boring for water in the Market Square, in Alexandria, 
was not commenced till after I went there to live, Tenth 
month, 1824 ; but I cannot fix the time certainly. 

About the time that project was given np the Chesapeake 
and Ohio Canal was commenced. John Quincy Adams, while 
President, moved the first spadeful of earth in that great 
work, after some difiiculty which obliged him to take off his 
coat, from encountering what was stated to be a hickory* root, 

•Hickory, or "Old Hickory," was the sobriquet lor General Jackson. 
Adams' opponent for the Presidency. 



about 1827. The corporation of Alexandria subscribed a quartel 
of a million dollars to that enterprise, on condition that the 
necessary arrangement and structure should be made for con- 
necting with it a branch canal to Alexandria. One great bene- 
fit looked forward to from this Alexandria canal, by sonre of 
the citizens, and especially by our valued friend, Hugh Smith, 
was its being the means of supplying the town of Alexandria 
with water. This idea was adhered to. even after the canal 
was in operation, and seeing all manner of filth that was con- 
tinually being thrown into the canal and basin by the boat- 
men, and from other sources, the idea of drinking that water 
rendered some fastidious stomachs qualmish. 

Another plan proposed was to erect a mound for a basin 
or reservoir, and force water up from the Potomac river, 
which plan did not give much better promise for pure water 
than the canal. 

A third proposition was to collect the streams from all 
the springs, in the valley northwest of the town, into one 
channel, and thus supply the town with water. Dr. Powell 
and myself spent some time on horseback reconnoitering the 
country in regard to this plan, and we were convinced that 
any supply that could be thus obtained would be wholly 
inadequate to the demands of the city. 

My own attention had been for some time turned to 
getting "Cameron Run" to the top of Suter's Hill, and let- 
ting it pass thence by its own flow through our kitchens, 
bath-rooms, etc., to the Potomac river, and give us all a full 
supply of good water, as well as furnish a means for ex- 
tinguishing fires, of which the city stood in great need. 

When on a visit to my sister, Mary S. Lippincott, at 
Moorestown, New Jersey, while this subject was occupying 
my mind, I met with James S. Hulme, of Mount Holly, 
and in conversation with him, ascertained that his mill had 
recently been brought into requisition as a means of sup- 
plying Mount Holly with water, and I accepted the invita- 
tion he kindly gave me to visit him and examine the 
works. They were very simple and efficient. The crank 
that moved the piston of the forcing pump was attached to 



an iron pin in the water-wheel of the mill, and a supply 
of water for the town was forced up to the reservoir, with 
very little, and many times no perceptible, diminution of 
the previous working power of the mill. 

This idea was at once transferred to Cameron Mills, as the 
source of power for the Alexandria water-works, and on re- 
turning to Alexandria I mentioned the subject to several of 
my friends, to thee, Edward S. Hough, and Thomas William 
Smith among the number. They all encouraged me. I told 
them if they would get up a public meeting of those in 
favor of a supply of water for the town, I would make a 
speech upon the subject in favor of using the Cameron 
stream. This was done. 

The large company of citizens that collected in the 
Lyceum building, gave evidence of the interest they felt in 
the subject. I spoke of the feasibility of having the clear 
and pure water from Pebbly Brook (Cameron stream) con- 
ducted through all our houses on its way to the Potomac, 
and, referring to the motto on One span of the beautiful 
arch on Washington street, erected in honor of General 
La Fayette, when he visited Alexandria, Tenth month, 1824, 
taken from his speech on the Paris Tribune : ' ' For a nation 
to be free, it is sufficient that she wills it," so, I added, 
for Alexandria to have this great luxury, it is sufficient 
that she wills it. I cannot remember whether or not a 
subscription was opened at that meeting, which was held 
some time in the winter of 1850-1, or at a meeting held 
soon after. The shares were twenty dollars each. The 
subscription paper was first handed to some of the rich men, 
the largest subscription among whom was ten shares ! I saw 
at once that with such a commencement among our moneyed 
men, the work would never be accomplished. On the paper 
being handed to me, I subscribed forty shares. The effect 
was electrical. Thou wilt remember it. I, a comparatively 
poor man, going so far beyond the wealthy ones, seemed to 
give eclat to the subject. Phineas . Janney doubled his sub- 
scription st once, and recommended to others, " Do thou like- 
wise," which many did. The shares were afterwards raised 



to twenty-five dollars each, which made my subscription one 
thousand dollars. 

I have ever since believed that the life infused into the 
undertaking when my subscription was announced to the 
meeting, and made known among the citizens, was one great 
element of our success. It gave evidence of an earnestness 
of purpose and of confidence in the practicability of the 
scheme, by one who had made it most of a study, and who 
was believed to be among those who were best able to judge, 
and thus inspired confidence in others. I was appointed on 
the committee to obtain subscriptions, and no person I asked 
failed to subscribe at least one share. 

The subscription got on finely, and a meeting of the 
stockholders was soon called to elect officers. I nominated 
George D. Fowle for President, but he and others named 
me, and to my surprise I was unanimously elected, with the 
exception of my own vote. 

I accepted the office upon two conditions : — first, that I 
was to have no salary ; second, that I was to have the 
privilege of selecting a competent engineer, who had con- 
structed similar works, to the satisfaction of the companies 
by whom he was employed. 

Both these conditions were acceded to. I saw and felt 
the wisdom of them afterwards. 

Frederick Erdman was mentioned to me by John Elgar, 
my wife's uncle, as a competent engineer for our purpose, 
he having been connected with the Philadelphia water- works 
for many years, under that distingished engineer Frederick 
Graff, and, moreover, "had constructed water-works at Harris- 
burg, Pennsylvania, and Frederick, Maryland. 

I immediately wrote to the President of each of these 
companies, making inquiries in regard to his success, and 
they both bore emphatic testimony to his competency and 
efficiency, and stated that, if they had similar works to build, 
they would have him for engineer, if he was to be had, at 
almost any price. In answer to my inquiry, how much was 
the annual cost for repair of the forcing pump, made under 
Erdman' s direction, the President of the Harrisburg company 



snid he could not tell the annual cost, for in the number 
of years, some six or eight, it had been running, they had 
uot paid the first cent for repairs. 

Frederick Erdman, from this high testimony, was of course 
elected by the Board our engineer, he proposing to superin- 
tend the whole work to completion, performing all the duties 
of engineer, for the sum of fifteen hundred dollars, which 
was satisfactory to the Board, .and, as thou knowest, we had 
many times afterwards cause to congratulate ourselves for 
having been favored to obtain his valuable services. 

As already intimated, I had always looked to Suter's 
Hill as the site for the reservoir from which the water was 
to be distributed through the city, and the Board had agreed 
upon a spot in a conspicuous situation from King street. 
The day Erdman first came, after his appointment, the Board 
accompanied him there to show him what an eligible site 
we had, the Board consisting of Benjamin Hallo well, Presi- 
dent ; Eobert H. Miller, Stephen Shinn, George D. Fowle, 
Thomas McCormick, John B. Daingerfield, and William N. 
McVeigh, Directors, and Edward S. Hough, Secretary. 

Thou wilt remember our engineer looking all around, 
silently, for some time, when at length he said, in substance, 
"Gentlemen, this place will not suit you at all for the reser- 
voir. It is more than twice the height you need. You 
will be able to get less than half the water at this elevation 
than at a proper one. It would be a double strain upon 
your service pipes, and cause a continued perplexity and ex- 
pense from their breaking." I do not know how many other 
convincing practical objections to our "eligible site" he would 
have brought out, had I not interrupted him by asking if 
he would please to point out to us the proper place for the 
reservoir. After a little pause, in which he took an eye 
survey between there and Cameron Mills, from which we had 
told him we were to obtain the water, he pointed to the site 
of the present reservoir, and said, "That is the knoll for 
your purpose," and he proceeded towards it, the Board fol- 
lowing, one of whom felt as humble as their "knoll" ap- 
peared beside Suter's Hill. But were we not all pleased 



with our engineer, and highly gratified that we had the 
result of practical experience in time ! It saved us many 
thousands of dollars. This is only one of many instances in 
which we found the value of his experience in constructing 
different parts of the work. 

The following notice of 1 ' breaking ground ' 1 for the reser- 
voir, appeared in the Alexandria Gazette in the spring of 

4 'Having taken quarters at Sanders' City Hotel, where 
the illustrious Washington frequently sojourned, I proceeded 
at once to learn the passing events of the day. In the after- 
noon the President and Directors of the Alexandria Water 
Company had, in the presence of a number of their fellow- 
citizens, performed the important and interesting ceremony of 
breaking the first ground towards 'that noble work. 

1 ' This took place on the lot recently purchased of Peter 
Tressler, in the rear of Suter's Hill. The venerable Benja- 
min Hallowell, spade in hand, and with a degree of vigor 
and enthusiasm that would have reflected credit on a more 
youthful operator, took the lead, in which he was followed 
by our excellent townsmen, Phineas Janney, Hugh Smith, and 

1 k Mr. Hallowell made a very neat and appropriate address, 
and at the conclusion the whole company walked to a house 
in the neighborhood, where they partook of an agreeable 
entertainment, in the shape of ice-cream, lemonade, etc., etc. 

"May each and all who were there present long live to 
enjoy in their dwellings the pure streams of water from 
Cameron Pun." 

With the subsequent proceeding thou art as well ac- 
quainted as I, and therefore I need proceed no further with 
my narrative, unless it may be to relate a little incident 
connected with bringing the water-main from the reservoir 
across the "Stone Bridge." 

Erdman, our engineer, proposed to cut a little distance into 
the arch of the bridge, so as to imbed a portion of the pipe, 
which he said would not injure the bridge in the least, but 
we thought it would be only respectful to consult Phineas 



Janney, who was President of the Turnpike Company, that 
claimed ownership of the bridge. President Janney and 
his engineer refused permission, the engineer saying "it would 
ruin the bridge." Erdman told us (the Board) there was no 
other safe way to cross the ravine. What was to be done in 
such an emergency? I think it was thou who told me that, 
some time previous, when that bridge was carried away by a 
freshet, the Turnpike Company represented to the corporation 
of Alexandria that their road terminated at the west side of 
the stream, and asked the corporation to rebuild the bridge, 
which it did, entire. 

On gaining this information, I immediately obtained an 
interview with Lawrence B. Taylor (a former student), who 
was then Mayor, and with Eeuben Johnston, who was Auditor 
of the corporation of Alexandria ; explained the state of affairs 
to them, and they, remembering the correctness of what thou 
hadst told me, said they would sustain the Board in any course 
they and their engineer thought best and right to take. 

We then made arrangements with William McLean, the 
energetic and faithful contractor for laying the pipes, to carry 
the pipes across the bridge "between two days," and he put 
the work under way accordingly by having his men to dig 
trenches on each side of the bridge, closer and closer. In the 
afternoon McLean saw Phineas Janney coming, and he jumped 
into an idle cart and lay there about two hours, the President 
remaining on the ground till near sunset. On asking the men 
what the plan was to cross the bridge, they told him they did 
not know, which was the case. They were just working ac- 
cording to orders. On the President of the Turnpike Com- 
pany's going out there early next morning, he found the pipes 
all laid across the bridge, and covered up nicely for some dist- 
ance towards town, without the least injury to the bridge, nor 
has there been any since, to this time. 

It may be proper to add that neither McLean nor the Presi- 
dent of the Water Company was there at the time the President 
of the Turnpike Company came out in the morning, nor did 
they meet with him for several days thereafter. When^we did 



meet, he was very pleasant, and he never afterwards said a 
word on the subject. 

Thy sincere friend, 

Robekt H. Miller, Alexandria, Ya. 

The water was let into the pipes and conveyed into 
the town on the 15th of Sixth month, 1852, just fifteen 
months after the appointment of the Board and after 
the commencement of the undertaking. There were but 
two leaks in the whole seven miles of pipe, and these 
were stopped in a few hours the same afternoon the 
water was admitted ; showing the faithfulness and effi- 
ciency of the contractor, William McLean. It was be- 
lieved to be an unparalleled success. 

It was acknowledged that in the Lyceum Building 
and the Water-works, both of which were due to my in- 
strumentality, as well as in the buildings erected for pri- 
vate use, I left Alexandria better than I found it. 

Among the papers of my valued friend, Robert H. 
Miller, who died on the 10th of Third month, 1874, was 
found the following inscription, in his own hand-writing, 
apparently of recent date, to be placed upon a tablet to 
be inserted in the banks of the reservoir at Mount 
Cameron, in pursuance of a plan that had long been on 
his mind, and which he wished to accomplish at an early 
day. But the hydrant of Cameron water, that is now 
in the Market Square, with the evidence of the wish 
and intention of my valued friend, which, I have under- 
stood, was shared in by the Water Board, are more 
grateful to my feelings, and more in harmony with my 
ideas of the fitness of things than would be a monument 
of marble: 




First President of the Alexandria Water Company, 
whose foresight devised, 
whose influence and energy completed 
the simple but effectual scheme 
of supplying alexandria with pure water, 

this monument is erected 
by his grateful friends and fellow - citizens. 

Alexandria Water Works commenced 1851. 
Completed 1852. 
Enlarged under the Presidency of Geo. H. Smoot. 
Commenced 1869. Completed 1872. 

"Now, what I wished is done. 
By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again,' 1 

as well as the many and varied incidents of niy life to 
the present time. 

Note. — To make the picture as complete as possible, 
it seems right to add the following : — I was recommended 
as an approved minister of the Society of Friends by 
Alexandria Monthly Meeting, and confirmed by Fairfax 
Quarterly Meeting, Virginia, while I was President of 
the Maryland Agricultural College, in the Eleventh 
month, 1859, 



Of our nine children, six are dead. Four died 
young, the oldest of them being under six years ; the 
next four years and two months ; the third twenty-two 
months ; and the fourth, seven months. Five lived to be 
married and have families. Three of our children and 
their companions still live to cheer and comfort us, be- 
sides eighteen grandchildren, who feel almost as near to 
me as our own children, of whom Henry has seven, 
Caroline four, Elgar left four, Benjamin jr. has one, and 
Mary left two. 

The thought has several times presented itself, since 
I commenced to write this Autobiography, in the early 
part of last month, how many of those persons who 
have been brought so pleasantly into remembrance, as 
they were then, and many more than I have named, so 
that I can seem to see them and hear them distinctly, 
have passed on to the higher life ! 

The fact I have gained from the preceding minute 
and careful review of all the varied incidents of my 
earthly career, that there is not a single person, living 
or departed, whom it does not afford me real pleasure 
to remember, or whom I would not feel rejoiced to meet 
in this stage of existence, or the one to which we are 
all passing, fully repays for all the labor of compiling 
and writing this history. 

I have no feeling, save of love, for any person any- 
where, nor do I feel that any person owes me anything, 
material or spiritual, or is under obligations to me ; all is 
fully paid. I am conscious of never having intentionally 
wronged any one, although I may have done so by 
impulse, which I have continually striven, and with some 
success every year, to overcome. From a nervous excita- 
ble temperament, it has occasioned me more anguish and 



suffering than all the physical pain, sickness, and disease I 
have experienced, and I am assured the Good Father, in 
his love and mercy, has forgiven me for it. I therefore 
feel at peace ivith him and with the whole world, and ready 
to depart at his earliest summons. 


Rockland, Sandy Sjjring, Md., 

Second mo. 26th, 1875. 







Introductory Note. 

In the early part of the present year (1875), at the re- 
quest of my children, and particularly of my daughter, 
Caroline H. Miller, inasmuch as I needed something to 
occupy me in the intervals of waiting on my dear compan- 
ion, who was an invalid, I wrote for the benefit of my chil- 
dren and grandchildren an Autobiography. The object 
aimed at w T as to give a history of those incidents and cir- 
cumstances in my life which had tended to form my char- 
acter, and evolve, from the " Me " that was the actor in 
the transactions, the " Me " that is now relating them. 

When I had finished that engagement, which was 
toward the latter part of the Second month, being still 
occupied* in attending to my dear wife, I concluded to 
w T rite some incidents, experiences, and reminiscences of my 
life, that were not immediately connected with the develop- 
ment of my character, but which still possessed some points 
that I thought might be of interest, and place them as an 
appendix to my Autobiography ; but before these were quite 
finished, the precious invalid was taken from me (Fifth 
month 1st), and I felt unable to continue the employment. 
But, thanks to the benevolent framer of the human consti- 
tution, time, the great soother of sorrow, has gradually 
brought the sad reality to blend harmoniously with my 
daily thoughts and duties, and I concluded to resume the 
occupation and finish what was then before me, which is 
now done. 




Goods Seized for Militia Fines. 

A little over a year after we commenced housekeeping 
in Alexandria, D. C, in 1824, the captain of the militia 
of the district presented to me a bill of fifteen dollars for 
muster fines for the past year, five musters in the year, and 
a fine of three dollars for absence from each. I told the 
captain the discipline of the religious society to which I 
belonged required that its members should be in no way 
active in anything connected with military affairs, but 
suffer peaceably whatever penalty the law imposed. He 
said he would then have to distrain my property for the 
amount of the fine, and requested me to designate what 
goods I could best spare. I told him I could, say nothing 
upon the subject, but left it all to him to do what the law 
required. He then levied on our parlor furniture, taking 
a large looking-glass, my portable writing-desk, brass and- 
irons, shovel and tongs, and several other things* ; goods 
selling so low at such sales, which no respectable people 
attended, it took more than we could replace for fifty dollars 
to pay a fine of fifteen. But I cheerfully made the sacrifice 
to the Society, for the many privileges I enjoyed from it, 
although our parlor did look very much stripped, and I 
thought such a stripping every year, which was the pros- 
pect before me, would be a severe tax. 

At the ensuing session of Congress, however, the Co- 
lumbian College, of Washington City, petitioned to ex- 
empt the President, professors, teachers, and student.- of 
that institution from military duty in time of peace, 
and a bill was laid before the House for that object. 
While the bill was under consideration, a motion was 



made to extend the same favor to the officers of George- 
town College. 

Charles Fenton Mercer, who represented the Con- 
gressional district in Virginia contiguous to Alexandria, 
and a warm friend of our school, moved an amend- 
ment so as to include " all the institutions of learning 
in the District of Columbia," which was adopted, and 
the bill as amended passed. I immediately obtained a 
copy of the laws of that session, when they were 
printed, and the next year, upon the collector's present- 
ing his bill of fifteen dollars, I showed him the law, 
which he had not before seen. After examining it care- 
fully, he said it exempted all persons connected with our 
establishment from military duty in time of peace, and 
he seemed to be gratified with it. 

The change was greatly in my favor. The law pre- 
viously required military duty of all males over eighteen 
years of age, which would have embraced not only the 
teachers, but nearly half the students, five days in the 
year, and a fine of three dollars each time for non- 
attendance. This would have occasioned no little per- 
plexity, but it was all obviated by this kindness of my 
friend Charles Fenton Mercer, of Aldie, w T ho, though many 
years deceased, is still held in pleasant and grateful 

From principle I could not engage in military training, 
either as an officer or in the ranks; — not as officer, for 
the reason that I could not assume the responsibility of 
commanding a company of men in what may become a 
case of morals, in which each individual must be left free to 
act according to the dictates of his own conscience or sense 
of right, which is the voice of God to his soul, and there- 
fore superior to all law or any human authority. For a 



like reason, I could not be one of the " rank or file," be- 
cause I believe it would be wrong to place myself under 
another, in a position where I might be commanded to do 
what my conscience and sense of right, the supreme au- 
thority for my guidance, would forbid. 

Therefore, independent of any consideration in regard 
to the hurtful influence of war in all its connexions, I 
have a testimony against military training as a preparation 
for war. But I have a high respect and regard for law. 
I am at heart a law - abiding citizen, never to be active in 
opposition to law, but ready and willing to comply with 
the law or suffer the penalty which it imposes for non- 

As a member of civil society, I think it would be right 
for me to pay the penalty which the law imposes for non- 
compliance in this respect, believing the general effect would 
be far better than the present mode prescribed by Friends' 
Discipline, of having the penalty collected by distraint. 
But estimating very highly the privileges my birth-right of 
membership in the Society of Friends has given me, and 
yet gives me, I will not pay such fines while the Discipline 
of the Society requires its members not to do so. Is this 
the right course ? Do we not blame the Pope and the Ro- 
man Catholic Church for a similar thing — for placing the 
obligations of the citizen to a religious society above his 
obligations to his country? 

Anecdote of a Graduate of West Point. 

About 1848 or 1849, one of our former students, whom 
we highly regarded, came to Alexandria expressly to inform 
my dear Margaret and myself that he was going to the 



Mexican war, and to bid us an affectionate farewell, his re- 
turn of course being uncertain. My dear wife, on hearing 
this, remarked to him, " I shall hereafter examine the 
papers with additional interest, to see if thy name is 
there." He replied, " If you find it, madam, I hope you 
will never see * run ' after it." "I would rather see ' run ' 
than killed" she answered. " Well," said I, " much as I 
love him, / would not. If he entertains the least conscien- 
tious scruples about going to war, I advise him by all 
means to be faithful to these and not go ; but if he has not 
such scruples and does go, then my earnest advice to him 
is, to do his duty, stand to his post faithfully, obey the 
commands given, and do all that is expected of him. His 
unfaithfulness in running, from cowardice, not principle, 
might cause a panic, throw all into confusion, be the means 
of sacrificing the lives of many brave men, as well as 
bringing disgrace on the officers and loss to the country. 
A true man will always be faithful in the effort to perform 
any duty he undertakes, and will endeavor to do all that 
can be reasonably expected of him, to the best of his 

After mature and deliberate reflection upon the subject, 
these are still my honest convictions. 

Incidents of the War, 1861-65. 

In the year 1860, seeing that a great sectional strife 
was approaching, in which my former students, who felt to 
me almost like my own children, were arrayed on opposite 
sides, thus seeming to add to the horrors of war, I deter- 
mined, as far as practicable, to keep my mind and feelings 
from all participation in it, and I ceased, as far as 



possible, from reading the newspapers, making inquiry, or 
hearing anything on the subject, for three years, from 1860 
to the fall of 1863, which period included my six months' 
journey by private conveyance beyond the Mississippi 
river. While traveling in the Mississippi valley, I learned 
that General Lee had crossed the Potomac, and had in- 
vaded Maryland and Pennsylvania, and that Harrisburg, 
Philadelphia, and Baltimore, were in great danger of 
being overpowered by the Southern army and captured. 
Although General Lee had been one of my students, in 
great favor, and a warm personal friendship had existed 
between us from that time, so that it would seem natural 
that my sympathies should be all with him and his success, 
yet when I heard that General Meade had arrested his 
progress and driven him across the Potomac to his own 
State, my heart rejoiced ! It was impossible to avoid it. 
It was an instinctive outburst in favor of right, justice, 
and freedom. 

So now (Fourth month, 1875), I wish every success to 
Governor Hartranfl, of Pennsylvania, in his wise and just 
measures for restoring peace and quiet in the counties at 
present threatened with lawlessness and anarchy. Bad as 
we all admit war to be, anarchy and mob violence are much 
worse than regulated war. Police in cities — indeed, all gov- 
ernment — rests ultimately on armed force. In a civilized 
community, there must somewhere exist a means of secur- 
ing safety and peace by coercion, if milder efforts fail. 

The inquiry has frequently presented itself to my mind, 
whether persons who refuse to give aid to the Government, 
to assist in carrying it on in such way as those entrusted 
with that duty think best, can consistently avail themselves 
of its advantages in recording their deeds, wills, and in all 
the machinery of civilized life. Can they with propriety 



employ a magistrate or a constable to arrest a thief that 
has their stolen horse in his possession, and recover their 
property ? 

Taking of his Horse Ande. 

In the summer of 1864 a Confederate officer, accompa- 
nied by two soldiers, galloped up the lawn at Rockland, 
and finding my riding-horse fastened in front of the house, 
they loosed her and took her off before I could get to them.* 
Seeing that they stopped at the barn, I ran there immedi- 
ately, and got hold of Ande's bridle rein. The officer 
endeavored to get my hand loose, and jerked me about 
for some time. My wife and children, who were looking 
on, were greatly alarmed. He then presented a pistol to 
my breast, and said he would shoot me if I did not let go. 
I looked him firmly in the face, and told him I could not 
do it ; the horse was mine ; the Confederate soldiers had 
taken our three best horses the previous year, and this was 
the only one I had left, and I could not spare her. I w T as 
just as calm and collected during the scene as I am now 
in describing it. 

After a little time his countenance relaxed, and he let 
go the bridle rein and went to look at the other horses, but 
found none to suit, and soon after left. I did not regard 
this as a " special Providence" in my favor, and should 
not have dared to presume to consider it in that light. 
Throughout the whole scene my consciousness was all ac- 
tive, and I was closely observant of his countenance and 
of the muscles of the finger that rested on the trigger, with 
the determined purpose, having hold of the bridle rein 
with my left hand, the first moment I perceived the least 

*It was the horse that had taken me on my long Western journey. 



increase of tension in either, to use my right hand and 
arm to give such direction to the muzzle of the pistol as 
would cause the ball to pass by me, feeling under no obli- 
gation whatever to remain a stationary target for him to 
shoot at. Before the officer left the premises, he came to 
me and offered an apology for his conduct, and shook hands 
with me at parting, in a very friendly manner. He said 
to some persons in the village, where he stopped, about half 
a mile distant, " That old Quaker gentleman was very de- 
termined, but I liked him for all." 

Such men, soldiers though they be, have a higher re- 
spect and regard for a person who stands up firmly for his 
rights, because *of its harmonizing with the witness for 
right and justice in their own hearts. This witness it is 
that renders truth, justice, and love invincible. 

The day on which the scene just related occurred was 
a trying one, the whole neighborhood being overrun with 
Confederate officers and soldiers ; but we understood in the 
evening that all had left. 

The next morning at breakfast, I told my wife I would 
walk over and see how our sister-in-law, Sarah B. Far- 
quhar, who lives about half a mile distant, had fared 
through the disturbed day, her residence being much nearer 
the roadside than ours, and I was apprehensive she might 
have been more inconvenienced. My wife said the morn- 
ing was so very warm fit being in the Seventh month), I 
had better ride. I took her advice ; had Ande brought 
out, and set off. Before I had gone more than two hun- 
dred yards from our back gate on the main road, I met a 
Confederate officer and two soldiers of a different company 
from those of the day before. I spoke to them respect- 
fully, and was about to pass on, when the officer com- 
manded, " Halt V I stopped, and he, after examining my 



horse closely, said, " We must have that horse — the 
Major's horse has given out, and we were sent to take the 
first horse that would suit, and this is just the one we 
want." He then ordered me to dismount. I told him I 
could not do that — the horse was mine, she had carried 
me four times across the Alleghany Mountains, and once 
beyond the Mississippi river and back, and had been so 
faithful to me that I could in no way be accessory to 
separating from her. " You must then," said he, " go with 
me to headquarters," to which I cheerfully consented, ex- 
pecting to find headquarters in a room, where I could 
plead my cause, and I hoped, save my horse. We had 
gone but a little distance, however, toward " headquarters," 
when we came to a turn in the road, from which we could 
see that it was full of soldiers, being General Bradley 
Johnson's command, with four pieces of artillery and eleven 
hundred mounted men. 

The officer took me up to a superior, who, with his 
body-guard and artillery in front and behind him, was 
ridiug along, and said to the General, "This old gen- 
tleman is not willing to part from his horse." The 
General looked at the horse critically, I riding along 
between him and the officer, and then emphatically 
said to the officer, "Take that horse" The officer con- 
ducted me to the side of the road, which was stream- 
ing with cavalry, into the corner of a " worm fence," 
and I felt convinced that " Ande" was gone — that the 
command received would have to be obeyed ; but I did 
not see how the officer w T as to get us separated. He said, 
" You heard what the General said, and I wish you to 
dismount." I looked him firmly but mildly in the face, 
and told him I had heard it. " Now," said I, " it is 
not obstinacy, but as I have already said, this is my 



horse ; she has been faithful to me, and I cannot in any 
way be active in separating from her. I bought her 
sire in Montreal, Canada, just because I fancied him, and 
brought him home by railroad, canal, and steamboat, 
paying duty on him as I crossed the lines, to New York 
city, had him shipped to Alexandria, Virginia, where I 
then lived. I bought her dam in Loudoun county, 
Virginia, and we raised three colts, two of which, with 
another of our best horses, the Confederate officers took 
last year, and this is the only horse left that I can ride, 
and I cannot, by any act of mine, part from her." 

I saw from his countenance my remarks had made 
an impression, but he had to obey orders. He asked me 
if I was far from home, which I thought was with a 
view, in case I was, to make this an excuse to the Gen- 
eral for permitting me to retain her. This I do not 
know, but it manifested a benevolent consideration. I 
told him I was not far from home. " Then you can 
readily walk there ?" I told him I could. " Then 
you must dismount." I told him, for reasons I had 
already given, and from no obstinacy whatever, that I 
could not do. I was observing him intently. He looked 
perplexed, having his eyes turned in the direction the 
army was going, that was still streaming by us. At 
length I observed a turn in his thoughts that lighted 
up his countenance. He came up to my saddle, coolly 
and deliberately unbuckled the girth, took hold of the 
saddle with one hand in front and the other behind me, 
and pulled it and me over (I resting on his shoulder), 
and laid me down at full length as gently as if I had 
been an infant ; and by the time I could get up, he had 
mounted his horse and was leading Ande off, so that I 
barely got sight of her, before they came to a turn in 



the road, and she was lost to me forever. Poor Ande, 
she was a true and faithful horse! In consideration of 
the hard usage to which, in all probability, she would be 
exposed, the regret I felt was quite as much on her 
account as my own. 

But I never had the least feeling of unkindness or 
blame towards any of the persons who were engaged in 
these proceedings, although from myself and my children 
they took nine of our very best horses (they being ex- 
cellent judges, and taking none but the best), seeing how 
completely the whole neighborhood was in their power, 
and what amount of damage they might have done in 
our settlement, with six pieces of artillery and fifteen 
hundred mounted men. In addition to a little personal 
inconvenience for a few days, the loss of a few horses 
and rails was all the neighborhood suffered. No building 
was burnt, no life lost, and no one taken prisoner, except 
as guide for a short distance. 

Interview w t ith a Eoman Catholic Priest. 

On one occasion, about the year 1840, while I was 
President of the Alexandria Lyceum, a member chose 
for the subject of his lecture " European History," in 
the early portion of w T hich the history of Rome and of 
the Pope was necessarily prominent. The lecture bore 
pretty hard upon some features of the Pope's proceedings 
and of the Roman Catholic religion, as infringing upon 
individual freedom and intellectual development, particu- 
larly in denying to its members freedom of thought. 

It happened that the Roman Catholic priest, resident 
in Alexandria, was present. The next morning after the 



lecture, I was called out of the school-room into my 
study, where I found the priest, who had come up to 
protest against my allowing such utterances in the 
Lyceum as the lecturer of the preceding evening had 
used ; that, as the presiding officer of the institution, I 
ought to prohibit it, as doing great injustice to a part 
of the community. 4 * Besides." said he, M it is not true 
that the Catholics are denied freedom of thought. The 
church leaves every one at liberty to think just what 
he pleases, and no greater freedom of thought could 
possibly be desired. But no one has a right to tell his 
in 6 del thoughts to another. If his own mind is poisoned, 
it is the duty of the church through its officers to prevent 
his spreading the poison, but he is allowed the privilege 
himself to think ju*t ichat he pleases." 

It was not without some difficulty I refrained from tell- 
ing him that there was room lor sonie doubt whether 
the privilege he mentioned would be long accorded 
them, if it were in the power of the Pope or the 
church to prevent it : but I treated him and his con- 
cern politely and respectfully, reminding him, however, 
that fkiM was a free country (he being a foreigner); and 
that the lecturer had said no more on the subject than 
is recorded by those who are considered reliable histo- 
rians. With this view he seemed better satisfied, and 
we parted in good and kind feeling. 

Xow, incidents in my own experience have frequently 
reminded me of the Catholic's privilege, and his view of 
what constitutes full liberty of conscience and freedom of 
thought " to have the liberty to think just what he pleases, 
but no right to tell his thoughts to another.'' Many 
times, both in speaking and in written documents, I have 
found myself with the Catholic's privilege, allowed to 



think what I pleased, but not allowed to express my 
honest thoughts and deepest convictions to others, with- 
out censure from some member of the Society to which 
I belong. 

My idea is, as forcibly expressed by A. W. Stevens, 
"that it is best for each one to speak frankly what 
he believes, and to have no concern whatever whether 
his propositions stand or fall. Stand they will, as far as 
they are true, and fall they must, as far as they are 

" The moment a man begins to have any pride or 
egotism of opinion, that moment his mental and moral 
eyesight begins to fail, and he looks at truth as a parti- 
san, not as a philosopher. 

"Let us have done with personal and dogmatic con- 
troversialism, and in our discussions invoke the spirit of 
calmness and peace. Only thus shall we be able to 
know the truth and to state it with powerful persuasive- 

Adventure with an Alderney Bull. 

Extract from a letter written to a friend in Philadelphia, t7ie day 
after the occurrence. 
In the forenoon of the 20th of Fourth month, 1872, my dear 
Margaret and I concluded to make a friendly call on our neigh- 
bors, George E. and Eliza Brooke, of Brooke Grove, the road to 
which place passes through the woods of the Fair Hill prop- 
erty. As we rode along we saw a very fine Alderney bull lying 
about twenty yards from the road, but with no fence be- 
tween us. 

It has long been my custom, when riding, and I see 
anything that interests me, as a mineral, a flower, or what- 
ever particularly attracts my attention, to get out and examine 



it ; so on this occasion, prompted by a not very well-defined 
object, but one of rather a mixed character, prominent in which 
was a desire to see a very handsome animal on his feet, I told 
Margaret I would get out of the rockaway and make him get 
up. She offered some objection to this, on the ground, as I 
understood it, that it would delay our call, which had been 
deferred late enough already. 

I knew the bull possessed rather a bad character, and more- 
over, he had a board over his face, an evidence of his not being 
entirely reliable, but I had not the least idea of any danger, 
and, thinking it would cause but a few moments delay, I got 
out, with whip in hand, and roused him up. 

I noticed he stood very sulkily, eying me sternly from 
behind the board as he stood sideways to me, and, on my giving 
him, with the whip, an intimation to move further away, he 
rushed on me with terrific violence, threw me down on my back, 
and, standing over me (an ugly-looking object then), attempted 
to gore me. 

As is common with this breed of cattle, his horns were 
comparatively short, and stood nearly at right angles with his 
head and neck, so that he could not bring either horn in posi- 
tion to gore me, without turning his head very much to one 
side. This, I was enabled to prevent him from doing, by taking 
hold of his horns, one with each hand, and applying tolerably 
great strength, which my position on my back favored, my 
elbows resting on the ground, and pulling the upper horn and 
pushing the lower one, thus keeping them level, so that they 
could not injure me. 

My body and feet were under him, while he was battling 
at my head, and I holding on to his horns, and endeavoring 
also to get hold of his nostrils, by which I thought I could 
obstruct his breathing and induce him to desist, but in this 
effort I was unsuccessful. At length he gave me a sudden jerk 
and toss which threw me some five or six feet, but his horns 
only tore my clothes, and did me no personal injury. 

Before I could get up, however, he was over me again, and 
I felt myself to be in a pretty tight place, from which I could 
not see how to become extricated. No one was near % but my 



dear wife, and she too feeble even to attempt any assistance. 
But I succeeded, as before, in getting a good hold of his horns, 
and being still on my back I had strong power to prevent 
injury from them. My greatest danger appeared to be from 
the tread of his feet on my body, he being such a large, heavy 
animal. He several times stepped across from one side to 
the other, but I soon observed that he moved his feet with 
great care, seeming to regard any part of me as unsafe for his 
feet in his combat, and I was relieved from this apprehension. 

After a considerable struggle, he gave me another sudden 
toss, throwing me about the same distance as before. I fell 
close to the foot of a pretty large tree, and at once saw that 
now was my chance of escape, by getting on the other side of 
it before the bull came up, which I succeeded in doing, and 
then kept it between him and me, so that I appeared to him 
to be annihilated. On coming up to the tree and not finding 
me, he walked quietly off in another direction, and I went to 
the rockaway, where I found my dear ^largaret, who had been 
a distressed witness of the whole struggle, under feelings of 
intense apprehension and nervous excitement, more easily imag- 
ined than described, fully expecting that I could not get out of 
the contest alive, and she, although so near, utterly powerless to 
render any assistance. She was a living picture of true and 
genuine distress. But, rinding I was not seriously injured, she 
soon became calm. 

As may well be supposed, I was much bruised and bat- 
tered in the contest, but am glad to be able to say that my 
physician (Dr. Magruder) gives it as his opinion that there is 
no serious injury. My head and face are very badly bruised 
and scarred, done in part, no doubt, by the board which the 
bull had over his horns, and which I noticed as he walked off 
hung by one end only. 

I am now writing with the blackest eye, as shown from 
the mirror, that I ever saw. My lower limbs are very much 
bruised, I suppose from the animal's scraping them as he 
stepped from side to side, and the muscles of my arms and 
breast are extremely sore from the severe strain on them, in 
my effort to keep his horns from doing me injury. 



Still I do not mind it. I am willing to bear it all 
patiently, and feel thankful it is no worse. I have nothing 
whatever to regret. I intended no harm, and wished to do 
nothing wrong. In getting out of the vehicle I acted entirely 
in harmony with my general character on snch occasions, and 
it would not have been "me" to have acted otherwise. I 
have gained much more by getting out in that way, when rid- 
ing, than I have lost, including my present loss of usual looks 
and comfort. I retain, however, my wonted cheerfulness and 
hopefulness, which I regard a favor. 

I have not a single feeling of blame, nnkindness, or ill- 
will towards him. He was in his forest range and free, and 
had a right to take his repose whenever he chose to do so, in 
which I obtrusively interrupted him for my individual gratifica- 
tion, and he, not knowing how tar my obtrusiveness might ex- 
tend, acted in harmony with the instinct of self-protection, and 
I with that of self-preservation. 


My first lecture, as before stated, was delivered before 
the teachers and scholars of Westtown Boarding School 
in 1822, to the males one evening, and the same lecture 
repeated to the females next evening. 

The plan the teachers had adopted was to lecture 
from very brief notes, just the headings of the different 
topics, and I felt bound to follow it, and have continued 
this mode in my lectures, all my life since, with very 
few exceptions. 

The experience in these lectures at Westtown was 
of great advantage to me. I record it for the benefit 
of others, to make in the first place all needed prepa- 
ration, by a full acquaintance with the subject of 
the lecture, and then, however great the embarrassment, 



make a determined effort, and the energies and powers 
will rise with the occasion, so that the effort will prove 
a success. Such has been my experience. 

I began to lecture more than half a century ago, 
and have lectured a great deal ; at Westtown, in Phil- 
adelphia, in the Medical College at Washington, in my 
boarding-school at Alexandria twice a week during 
the whole school term of nine months every year for 
many years, besides at various other places, from a 
country school-house to the Smithsonian Institution, and 
have never yet commenced a lecture or an address with- 
out a feeling of embarrassment. 

My dear wife, who used frequently to attend my 
earlier lectures, knowing my embarrassment at the com- 
mencement, sympathized with me deeply, which reminds 
me of a pleasant little incident that occurred years ago, 
soon after the opening of the Smithsonian Institution. 

She and I rode up to Washington from Alexandria 
one evening to attend a lecture by Professor Silliman, 
on Geology, at that Institution. We arrived there early. 
When Professor Silliman came in and began to make 
preparations for his lecture, he pulled out, at one end of 
the lecture table, a small sliding shelf, on which he 
placed a tumbler of water to use during the lecture. 
Colonel Abert came in and took a seat on the step of 
the platform, nearly under the tumbler. Margaret said 
to me, in a whisper, " Now, if thee were going to lec- 
ture, the first thing thee would do would be to overset 
that tumbler. ,, She had scarcely finished her remark 
before over it went, as Professor Silliman was arranging 
something, the water falling on Colonel Abert, whose 
look at the Professor, as he brushed the water off his 
clothes, was very significant. 




Extract from a Lecture on Canada. 

"While in the neighborhood of Lake Sinicoe, which lies to 
the east of Lake Huron and southeast of Georgian Bay, with 
which it is connected by the river Severn, we had the great 
gratification of seeing a band of Indians of the Chippewa tribe, 
who live on Snake Island in the adjacent lake, about seven 
miles from the shore. They come annually into the white 
settlement to make and sell baskets, the material they use 
being black ash. The whites allow them to get whatever 
material they wish for making baskets or building canoes, or 
for any other purpose, wherever they please, considering them 
to possess a proprietorship for whatever they may need, that 
dates back beyond the grants of the British Crown. It was 
truly gratifying to see these manifestly just rights accorded to 
them by the whites, and to observe the cordial and mutually 
confiding terms upon which the two races there live as neigh- 
bors, and it is greatly to be desired that a similar state of 
things should exist in our own country. But, alas ! alas ! with 
us it is to be feared that the Red Man, with all his noble 
qualities and heroic virtues, is doomed to extinction, and that 
the time is not distant when "the places that have known 
him shall know him no more." The lands of the poor Indians 
are craved by the grasping ambition and acquisitiveness of our 
people, and every device is resorted to in order to induce them 
to do something which shall form a pretext for their murder. 

In the graphic and touching language of a poet, — 

"We seize the comforts bounteous Heaven has given, 

With strange diseases vex him from his birth ; 
We soothe his sorrow with no hopes of Heaven, 

Yet drive him headlong from his home on earth. 
As shrinks the stubble from the rushing blaze, 

Or feathery snow from summer's tepid air, 
So at our withering touch his race decays, 

By whisky poisoned all that war may spare." 



But to return to the band of Chippewas we met in Canada. 
They came on shore in two canoes made of birchen bark and 
white cedar, which is very light, and of consequence the canoes 
had but little weight. The largest was fifteen feet long and 
three and a half feet wide in the middle, tapering exactly alike 
toward each end, which was a sharp edge. This canoe was 
capable of conveying six persons, perhaps more, and yet so 
light that a man could readily carry it. 

These Indians speak intelligible English, and we held con- 
siderable conversation with them. They live principally upon 
fish, with which the lake abounds, and game, which is getting 
scarce. One of them seemed delighted with his success in 
shooting a ground-hog, on which we were to breakfast the 
morning of our visit. 

Their chief is an old man named John Snake, and lives on 
Snake Island, from which circumstance these Indians are fre- 
quently called Snake Indians. 

As soon as I saw the canoes, I desired to have a ride in 
one, and by the influence of a little silver, the value of which 
they seemed well to understand, this desire was gratified. 

Two Indian girls, the elder about seventeen, named Phebe 
Snake, took four of our company in one canoe, and a man took 
the remainder in another, and they gave us a most delightful 
and romantic ride on a beautiful narrow bay, amidst a dense 

" Where high in air the cypress shakes 
His mossy tresses wide, 
On Simcoe's stream near the dark blue lakes^ 
Where the wild duck squadrons ride." 

It was a scene and an incident long to be remembered. 
As we paddled along in our light canoes of birchen bark, in 
these solitary waters, one of the Indian girls, by request, kindly 
and modestly sang for us in her own language. We could not 
of course understand a word of what she said, but her evident 
embarrassment and effort to brace herself for the occasion, the 
lofty and noble appearance of her countenance, as her feelings 
seemed touched by the elevating import of What she was re- 



citing, and the grand display of the works of nature, in the tall 
cypress, whose overarching branches, with intermingled shade 
and sunshine, were reflected from the smooth bosom of the 
bay below, — all these, mixed with deep sympathy for this in- 
teresting but vanishing race of people, gave a multiplied activity 
to our pleasurable consciousness, which is, and I trust ever will 
be, a source of joy whenever we think of Lake Simcoe, and our 
kind friends, the Chippewa Indians. 

Conclusion of an Article on the Science of Com- 
mon Things, from "The Children's Friend." 
All animals live on vegetable substances ultimately, 
for although some animals feed on other animals, yet 
what they thus feed on, fed on vegetables, so that vege- 
tables are the support of all animal existence. And 
generally, it is the growth of last year that supplies the 
food for this. Vegetables derive their food from inor- 
ganic matter and convert it into food for animals, so 
that we are truly formed out of the dust of the ground. 
Our bodies are in this sense "as old as the hills." It 
is all wonderful. 

"See dying vegetables life sustain, 
See life dissolving, vegetate again. 
All forms that perish, other forms supply, 
By turns they catch the vital spark and die." — Pope. 

It has just been mentioned that it is principally the 
growth of one year that supplies food for the next ; 
there is never enough food on the earth to serve two years ; 
so that, if one single harvest were to fail, and the food 
be equally distributed, every living being on the earth 
would necessarily perish. But we have the gracious 
and unfailing promise that, "while the earth remaineth, 
seed time and harvest shall not cease." 



AYhen I lived in Alexandria, Virginia, many years 
ago, I was President of the Alexandria Lyceum, and we 
had a number of distinguished persons to lecture for us, 
among whom were John Quincy Adams, Caleb Cushing, 
Dr. Sewall, and Samuel G. Goodrich, or " Peter Parley," 
as he was generally called. 

At my request, "Peter Parley" gave a day lecture 
for the children of all the schools. The house was filled. 
It was one of the most interesting lectures I ever 
listened to. 

He had a happy faculty of speaking to the children, 
and such tact in gaining and keeping their attention, 
that they did not seem to get tired. 

I have two objects in view in referring to his lecture. 
He gave the children rules, formed for the occasion, 
which " would prepare them for entering the Temple of 
Virtue," and told them, if. they would come to his resi- 
dence, near Boston, and recite these rules, it would be a 
passport to his kindest attentions: 

( 'Ne'er till to-morroiv 1 s dawn delay 
What can, as icell be done to-day ; 
Nor do an act yon'd wish undone, 
Viewed by to-morrow's risen snn : 
Observe these rules a single year, 
And you shall freely enter here." 

The author has been deceased many years, but the 
good he did still lives, and the remembrance of him is 

The other point I wish to recommend to the young 
readers of "The Children's Friend," is to commit to 
memory the closing lines of " Junius's Letters," as a 
precious gem of crystallized thought. He says : 

" Grateful as I am to that Good Being, whose bounty 



has bestowed upon me this reasoning intellect, whatever 
it is, I hold myself proportionally indebted to hitn from 
whose enlightened understanding another ray of knowledge 
communicates to mine. But neither would I regard the 
highest faculties of the human mind a gift worthy of the 
Divinity, nor any assistance in the improvement of them 
a subject of gratitude to my fellow-creatures, were I not 
satisfied that really to inform the understanding, corrects 
and enlarges the hearth The latter part is what I wish 
you practically to bear in mind: 

" To in form the undepj?tanding, corrects and enlarges 

the HEART/' 

Should I ever meet with any of you, the repetition 
of this quotation will be a passport to my warmest af- 

Views, Experiences, and Reminiscences, connected 
with Education. 

Published in the 11 Journal" 1 in IS? 5. 

A trne system of Education must accord with the principles 
of freedom and justice. The muscles should be educated simul- 
taneously with the mind. 

Having spent fifty years of my life in active connection 
with educational institutions, endeavoring to awaken intellect 
and impart instruction. I hope that no apology is needed, now 
that education is engrossing so much of public attention, for 
my publishing somewhat at length, my views and experiences 
upon the subject. 

^Vhile I am strongly in favor of the object aimed at 
by the laws of Illinois, Massachusetts, and some other States, 
on •"Compulsory Education and Truancy," the education of all 
children betvreen the ages of five and fifteen years. I am fearful 
that the means proposed for securing the end by these laws 



will conflict with those principles of freedom and liberty which 
are held, and should ever be, more sacred even than life itself. 

No useful end, for the benefit of man, can possibly be at- 
tained by means that are not in accordance with the principles 
of freedom, justice, and love. 

Man cannot be legislated into morality, or into such con- 
duct as society may think best for him and his. This is im- 
possible. If law could do it, it would already be done by 
Deity, who does for man everything that is compatible with 
that freedom of choice on which rest man's responsibility and 
accountability, which, in his wisdom, he saw proper to confer 
upon him, without which he would be a mere machine. 

So great are the love and condescension of the Good Father, 
that he has given man power even to rebel against himself and 
his laics. 

We must, therefore, in order to be successful, take man as 
he is, and in all efforts for his elevation and improvement, co- 
operate with Deity ; work from within, not from without ; de- 
pend upon love, not human law or force. 

My ideas upon this subject are so well expressed by Abram 
W. Lawton, in a lecture on "Morality," recently delivered be- 
fore the ''Moral Educational Society" of Boston, that I will 
quote from his discourse the following paragraphs : 

"We expect society to make the individual moral by laws 
and penalties, instead of putting our first faith in the moral 
nature in the individual himself, and its eternal tendency to 
develop into rectitude. 

"Let not society be so vain as to think it is worthy to 
be the permanent master or keeper of the individual, or to be 
aught else than his temporary tutor and helper. Let it not 
presume to create the law for him, but only to help him find 
it and read it in his own nature, as it is there written by the 
hand of the Almighty. 

"On pain of incalculable sorrow to itself, will society sac- 
rifice man, or any true part of him, to any one of its institu- 
tions, its laws, its customs, its fashions, or hinder him from 
seeking in freedom whatever his mature soul craves. 

"As no wise parent will flog his child to school, but only 



incite and help him to go there (and remove those canses that 
render school repulsive), so society, if it be wise, will never 
undertake to compel men to be moral after its own notion, but 
will offer them every inducement and assistance to be moral 
after their own individual standard. 

4 ' It is a matter of history, as well as of daily observation, 
that the judgment of what is moral and what immoral varies 
according to circumstances. It is impossible to make the 
standard of morals absolute and uniform. Society legislates 
and administers in vain to do this. No system of police can 
accomplish it, though a constable of the State should be sta- 
tioned at the door of every private residence, or be detailed to 
walk with every individual citizen. 

1 1 The high importance of man' s being moral rests primarily 
in the fact that there have been given to his soul an infinite ex- 
istence and scope. He has a divine life to unfold and to 
clothe it with the manners of the skies. Sounding in the 
depths of his soul, he hears a call to come up higher, to lift 
his whole finite nature into the breadth of infinitude. He sees 
a finger from afar pointing to the goal of perfection, and this 
it is which incites him to strive to the uttermost, and bedeck 
himself with every moral and spiritual grace, that he may sit 
at last with and among the pure, and move in celestial society 
without a tell-tale blush or an awkward gesture. So far as 
society can help him to do this, it deserves his thanks, but he 
lives his life for far nobler purposes than to secure its favor 
or escape its censure. 

1 'Not until society learns how rightly to deal with the 
individual, to put itself into sympathetic instead of antagonistic 
relations with him ; to attempt no despotic, but only an edu- 
cative influence over him ; not until it learns to read and 
appreciate his nature generously and fairly, ceasing by any means 
the effort to crush it, but help him protect himself against its 
fierceness and to unfold its sweetness ; not until society itself 
perceives, and makes the individual see, that all his interests 
are identical with its own, and that they cannot be advanced 
separately, but best together — not until this charming period of 
mutual good understanding and amity come to pass between 



society and the individual, shall we have a complete blending 
of social and personal morality, a beautiful adjustment and 
harmony of the inward and outward life of man." 

The attainment of so desirable and such an advanced con- 
dition of society, older and younger, must necessarily be by a 
slow process, and it will require more than one generation to 
complete and perfect it, but it is in every way worthy of the 
effort, and this effort should be commenced immediately, and 
be continued by means and measures that are in harmony with 
those principles that rule in the heart of humanity, freedom, 
justice, and love. 

This certainly can be done by a united effort, and when 
we take into consideration that by the accomplishment of this 
object both ignorance and idleness, the great opponents of vir- 
tue and thrift will be removed, the heart of every philanthro- 
pist must be stimulated to the patriotic effort. 

But a change is needed in the object aimed at and em- 
braced in the term education. The present aim in the systems 
of education is to study hooks ; to store the minds of the young 
with the recorded thoughts of the wise, learned, and good who 
have preceded us. 

This is all right in its place, but we must bear in mind 
that there is a great amount of unwritten knowledge. This 
knowledge the present system cannot reach. Besides, the young 
have muscles as well as minds, which, in this day of imperative 
practical duties, possess equal claims to careful education and 

Of the capacity of the muscles for training, we have mul- 
tiplied evidences. When a girl first commences to knit, how 
slow and studied is every movement of the fingers, her whole 
mind being engrossed with the deliberate placing of the 
needles and the slow adjustment of the yarn, in every stitch, 
one after another ; and often, with the mother's instruction and 
aid superadded, when it is finished it is but a poor specimen of 
knitting after all. But during this slow process, the muscles 
are being educated. By means of the sympathetic nerves, the 
same movements of the muscles, successively repeated in the 
same order, through the wise economy of the physical consti- 



tution, so trains them that each movement suggests the next, 
and in a little time the process is carried on without further 
thought than a watchful consciousness to detect when the 
natural movement suggested by the nerve is nGt responded to 
by the muscle, that is, when the suggested movement is not 
made. This break in the natural process at once arrests atten- 
tion. A readjustment ensues, and the operation proceeds again, 
seemingly without thought. 

The same education of muscles is witnessed in making a 
pen from a quill, writing with a pen, playing od a musical 
instrument, and indeed in every process requiring a repetition 
of movement in the same order. At first every motion must 
be carefully guarded and directed, but during this process the 
muscles are educated and trained to the movement, so that, in 
a little time, the operation can be continued, while the mind 
of the operator may be engaged in conversation or in improv- 
ing thought and reflection. What a wise and benevolent pro- 
vision do we here find in the human constitution ! 

The muscles, like the mind, are more easily educated when 
young. They are then more pliable, teachable, and retentive. 
In processes requiring delicacy of touch or movement, early 
training is of the highest importance. Unless the muscles are 
trained, as they can be, to execute either directly or by ap- 
pliances the most delicate and perfect conceptions of the mind, 
the human machine is not in harmony, it is not properly bal- 
anced. Such a person is not more than half educated. But 
this defect is not the fault of his original constitution. It is 
the result of the disproportionate regard to the education and 
training of his mind and muscles. 

There is no substitute for this muscular training. It mat- 
ters not how much the mind may know, how highly it may 
be educated — it is a locked-up treasure in every department, 
until the muscles are trained to give to it active value, by 
executing properly whatever the mind dictates. 

Even speaking and writing — articulation and penmanship 
— to both of which important processes far too little attention 
is given, require careful muscular training. If this is done 
early in life and persistently adhered to for a few years, the 



enunciation being clear and distinct and the letters well formed, 
both of these valuable and indispensable needs of pleasant and 
improving social intercourse can be performed as readily as in 
the present too general indistinct and hurried articulation, and 
illegible writing, and more pleasantly. 

Some years ago great perfection was attained in Paris 
in forming papier mache representations of the human body, 
with all its parts, muscles, nerves, organs, viscera, etc., true 
to nature. Every portion, with the most minute precision, 
was so arranged that it could be taken apart, piece by piece, 
and layer by layer, or dissected and then readjusted, so that 
every part of the human body, internal and external, and 
its connection with every other part, could be readily seen 
and deliberately studied. This attainment was regarded with 
great interest and favor by many benevolent persons, under 
the belief that it would relieve students of medicine from 
what was considered the hardening influence of dissecting a 
subject, by furnishing all needed information without it. 
Some students of surgery were accordingly educated by using 
a papier mache representation instead of a real 11 subject." 

When they came to put their knowledge into practice, 
however, by using the knife and other surgical instruments, 
they found that their muscles not having been trained to 
the requisite delicacy and steadiness of movement, the opera- 
tion was like "butchering" the patient, — a rough, irregular, 
and unsuccessful attempt, causing much suffering, which a 
proper training of the muscles would have avoided. 

No trade can be learned by mere sight knowledge ; there 
is no substitute for using the knife, the plane, or the hammer. 
It has been tried, and always with the same result as that 
of the class in surgery. 

In order for full success, the muscles must be trained 
simultaneously with the mind — must be taught to do while 
the mind is learning to know, it being the practical part, 
which is of the greatest service to our fellow-creatures. 

The general plan of our institutions of learning is im- 
ported. Colleges and universities were formerly conducted 
by priests and clergymen. The principal aim of the colleges 



of Europe was to educate the students for one of three learned 
professions, Divinity, Medicine, and Law. School learning, 
or literary education, was regarded as thrown away upon 
farmers, mechanics, laborers, and even upon merchants, fur- 
ther than to have a knowledge of Geography and of business 

In the time of Henry the Eighth and Queen Elizabeth, 
it is said a large portion of the nobility could not read or 

Times are now happily altered. We see their mistake, 
and in a measure correct it. We have learned to appreciate 
the superiority of intelligent over unskilled labor in every 
department of industry, and to understand the greatly pre- 
dominating importance of industrial pursuits, to society and 
to the country, over those of the 1 ' three learned profes- 
sions,'' and to see that this relation is becoming more and 
more marked in favor of industrial avocations. 

To the Society of Friends this consideration presents 
itself with peculiar interest and significance. In such edu- 
cation as it is their concern to impart to their children, 
which must include a knowledge of the laws of health and 
of the importance of obedience to these laws, the three 
''learned professions" may very generally be dispensed with. 
Instead of preparation for these, the education of the muscles 
and a knowledge of the use of tools must be substituted, 
as adapted to the present practical condition of society, and 
must be acquired simultaneously with the literary and scien- 
tific attainments, and skill and superiority in them should 
be rewarded by similar evidences of approbation. 

Two marked aud sorrowful results arise from the present 
mode of pushing the intellectual development in college, to 
the neglect of training the muscles to some definite, useful 
end, and learning to use tools with a purpose while young. 

First, very few college graduates, comparatively, ever en- 
gage in mechanical or other producing industrial pursuits. 
The reason is evident, from controlling principles in human 
nature, that we will do well to regard. 

From constitutional influences, which tend to self-reliance 



and progress, and therefore are good, it is unfavorably mor- 
tifying to a young person, after having attained an eminence 
or an advanced position, to be compelled to come down or 
go back again. Hence, after a college graduate has obtained 
his diploma for success and distinction in his collegiate per- 
formance, if he enter upon mechanical or manufacturing pur- 
suits he has to go back and commence at the very ABC 
of the business, and with all his college acquirements, have 
the mortification of being surpassed and thrown into the 
shade by young and illiterate fellow-workers, who had hap- 
pily acquired experience and training in using tools. This 
humiliation the college graduate can rarely undergo, nor ought 
he to be subjected to it. It is unfavorable to him. His 
manliness and self-respect suffer, and all this from no fanlt 
of his, but from the neglect of those who had the direc- 
tion of his education. 

If he had had his muscles trained and had learned the 
general use of tools simultaneously with his literary and 
scientific studies, a very brief special training would have 
enabled him to take a respectable and remunerative posi- 
tion in a manufacturing establishment, or other industrial 

The second sad result from the present mode of col- 
legiate studies is the great number of graduates that be- 
come intemperate. This, also, is a result naturally to be 
looked for from the combination of circumstances brought 
to bear upon them. 

I have been lately informed that a person who had 
carefully traced the lives of the graduates of a certain col- 
lege after they had gone out into the world, had ascertained 
that a large proportion of them had died drunkards. What 
a sorrowful termination of a life, from which, no doubt, 
much was hoped during the sacrifices that were made in 
order to get the collegiate course completed ! The thought 
is rendered sadder when we reflect that the course pursued 
towards the student, from want of proper care to adapt his 
education to his wants and circumstances, tended to produce 
the result of filling a drunkard's grave, instead of fulfilling 



the high hopes and expectations that had been entertained 
of him ! It is a sorrowful picture, but it is one that should 
be looked at, carefully examined, and the practical lesson which 
it plainly teaches, thoughtfully and carefully treasured up. 

Let me state a not uncommon case. A bright youth of 
a family is selected to have a college education. His home 
education is wholly directed to this end. His brothers per- 
form all the domestic duties, and he is "kept at his books." 
Father, mother, sisters, all cheerfully make the necessary sac- 
rifices, which are often severe, in order that this favorite of 
the family may pass successfully and respectably through 
the college course, and receive his diploma. This obtained, 
they suppose their labors and sacrifices for him will termi- 
nate, and he will be able by his learning not only to do 
for himself, but perhaps to return to them a part of what 
they had through many long years advanced. 

Now with all his learning and his diploma he is among 
the most helpless of human beings. The "learned profes- 
sions" are all fully supplied. That last resort, "a vacant 
school," does not open to him. He can find no market for 
his wares. He has no means of converting the knowledge 
which he has acquired with so much expense and labor into 
needful food and clothing for himself, much less to make 
any return to his family for their kindness and sacrifices on 
his account. This thought saddens him. If he only had 
a knowledge of the use of tools, he could do something. 
But this he does not possess. This practical part of his 
education, unhappily for him, was neglected. There is noth- 
ing he can do for a livelihood. He is forced into idleness, 
seeks associates probably circumstanced like himself, wants 
excitement, takes to drinking, and dies of intemperance, Vie 
natural result of the mistaken system of distorted education! 

Many men of wealth who have not had that practical 
knowledge of human nature, which would have shown them 
the necessity of bestowing upon their sons, with their scho- 
lastic education, a means" of usefully and pleasantly em- 
ploying their activities (rendered the more necessary by what 
such education awakens), have had similarly to deplore the 



premature loss of beloved and promising sons ! The son 
bears the shame, the suffering, and the blame; but if we 
regard things rightly, the primary fault, although no doubt 
kindly intended and from want of full knowledge, rests with 
the parent, in the one-sided education he bestowed upon his 
son, and the failure to place him in the way of some con- 
genial, remunerative, and useful activities. 

Employment is a great preservative of virtue. It is man's 
natural want. For his safety it must be supplied. Let every 
youth possess knowledge of a trade of some kind. Of what 
kind the parent or guardian, from his superior knowledge, is 
best qualified to judge. In learning any trade, a youth gains 
a vast amount of unwritten knowledge, besides the inestimable 
benefit of having his muscles educated and trained to the use 
of tools. Let the first aim be p?*ecision, and this be well 
established, then rapidity. 

But here a practical question arises : Where shall children 
be placed to acquire this desirable knowledge? The "trades 
unions" crowd out apprentices in almost every branch, so that 
frequently the owner of an establishment is not permitted to 
place his own son as an apprentice to the business. The want 
must be supplied by industrial schools, where different trades 
and employments will be taught simultaneously with literary 
and scientific knowledge, which is the present great need in a 
true system of education. Such schools will assist too in solv- 
ing the "Labor Question," which has to be met. A revolu- 
tion in industrial concerns is steadily and rapidly taking place. 
Proper assistance or help on a farm, or in a family, is 
even now difficult to procure, and the difficulty is annually 
becoming greater. This must be the case under the present 
condition of things, and it is the part of a wise forecast to 
prepare to accommodate ourselves to the new order. 

A community cannot be regarded as enlightened while it 
contains an ignorant or degraded class. Such a class is felt 
to be a mutual disadvantage. Hence, the benevolent object 
now is to educate, elevate, and enlighten the whole popula- 
tion. This is all right. We must not even desire to check 
the philanthropic movement, however much the present higher 



class in society may feel the inconvenience. We will all 
ultimately be better for the change. But we must prepare 
to meet it by giving such directions to coming events as 
will force them to evolve harmonious and favorable results. 

'When all females become themselves housekeepers with 
families, and the males conduct business on their own ac- 
counts, whence are to be derived hired help and domestics? 
This is the state to which things are properly tending, and 
with the diminution of foreign immigration, which must take 
place, the tendtney will be rapidly increased, but there must 
still be a right way for all to get along comfortably. 

When this want shall happily be severely felt, it will 
lead to or compel its own supply. It will induce parents 
at the earliest practicable period to educate and train their 
children, both sexes alike 'and what a blessing to them!), 
to all duties and labors, in and about a house or family, of 
which their strength is capable. Every business or employ- 
ment which has to be done for the comfort, convenience, or 
health of a family is highly re$p >tible. Its performance is 
praiseworthy, and should be universally so regarded. The un- 
fortunate circumstance that these duties hitherto have been 
assigned to hired and illiterate help, has caused the offices 
to be regarded as low and menial. But they are not so 
in their nature. They are needful, and therefore noble and 
honorable. The sooner the false notion in regard to them is 
corrected, the better for us and our children, and for society 
at large. 

In many a family of children at present, and for years 
past, how heavily the hours hang, many times, just for want of 
some employment. Of this favor the domestics deprive them. 
Sufficient time to perform all the household duties is thus worse 
than wasted. Such occupation, too, would be very promotive 
of health. How frequently are the domestics the healthiest 
portion of the family, rarely unable to j>erform their accus- 
tomed routine of duties ! 

As soon as a child is old enough to carry a plate or a 
cup to or from the table, it should be trusted and encour- 
aged to do so. Let there be no fear of the child's letting 



the article fall. Teach it to take hold of it rightly. Then 
there is no danger. This taking a right hold of a thing, 
and keeping that hold, is the first step to be taught, and a 
most important one for success and usefulness. 

This educatien of the children will require patience and 
tact on the part of parents and others having them in 
charge, and a careful study of human nature, the instruct- 
ors beginning with themselves. But it will eventually make 
their own lives easier, and the lives of their children happier, 
by all being preserved in harmony with well-ordered domestic 
arrangements and economy, besides preparing children tor a 
sphere of usefulness in society. 

As remarked by Elizabeth P. Peabody, who has made the 
habits and instincts of children a special duty: " There is 
within children a certain aesthetic sense, or love of beauty 
and order, which accepts and acts out the right thing when 
it is suggested to them — that is, if it is suggested and not 
arbitrarily imposed, for arbitrary suggestion is opposed by a 
child inevitably, just in proportion to the force of individual 
character which is a hint in the management and educa- 
tion of children well worthy of careful study. Every one can 
be pleasantly moved if we can only find and touch the right 
spring. A key exists which patient research will discover, 
that will unlock every useful energy and impart to it the 
desired direction. 

Children, even when quite small, wish to do and delight 
to do what they see others perform, and especially to help 
father and mother, older sister and brother, in their engage- 
ments. If this feeling is properly cultivated, it will develop 
and strengthen, and become a source of permanent enjoyment. 
Then, every family would be an efficient kindergarten of the 
best kind, where the muscles and the mind are simulta- 
neously trained and developed in early life by a true and 
healthy natural process. This would be the best preparation 
and foundation for entering the industrial schools already 
alluded to, where, with the literary and scientific education, 
different trades and varieties of business occupations would be 
taught to both sexes. 




These industrial schools are the present great leant in a 
true system of education. Institutions of this kind would be 
attended with the happiest results. Besides the general ben- 
efit of each young person possessing the elements of wealth in 
the muscles, together with a knowledge of the means of per- 
f raiing intelligent labor, their time would become systema- 
tized and all the hours of the day be wisely appropriated, 
according to the wants and needs of the human system, to 
useful and agreeable purposes, — literature, science, domestic 
duties, a practical knowledge of and obedience to the laws 
of health, astronomy, industrial pursuits on which a liveli- 
hood depends, botany, chemistry, drawing, painting, natural 
history, and every pleasing occupation essential to their full 
development, in harmouy with their being and surroundings. 
They would find little time or desire for ornamental dress or 
light reading. Dress would largely lose its relative import- 
ance amidst such a multiplicity of higher enjoyments, and it 
would naturally h ive fewer hours appropriated to it in the 
systematic distribution of time. To a mind of elevated cul- 
ture, objects of higher interest would be seen and preferred. 

Also, in the practical examination and study of the dif- 
ferent sciences, as chemistry, botany, optics, astronomy, they 
would find intellectual entertainment more enrapturing and 
elevated than can be imparted by any work of imagination, 
and woul 1 experience the truth, taught by science in the 
telegraph, daguerreotype, spectrum analysis, and in many other 
instances, that modem rculity is far in advance of ancient im- 
agination, and that fact is now more wonderful than fiction. 

It is believed, after thoughtful examination, that at an 
" industrial school," under systematic arrangement and judi- 
cious management, after getting fairly into harmonious work- 
ing condition, every young person, in the period from seven 
to nineteen years of age, could receive a good education and 
learn a useful trade, by which to earn a livelihood after 
leaving school without any expense to the parent or guardian, 
and at the same time receive all the beneficial influences of 
a home education. Then the two years from nineteen to 
twenty-one would suffice, with the preparation already ob- 



tained, to study a profession or to perfect themselves in the 
special branch of business in which they propose to engage. 

It would require at least twelve years for such an in- 
stitution to pass through one cycle of changes and have all 
its parts brought into harmonious working condition, and a 
still longer period for the attainment of that perfection of 
which it is capable, in the distribution of time and running 
the complicated machine so as to secure the greatest benefit 
to the health and the greatest profit from the industrial 
employment (which experience alone can suggest), and to 
render it self-sustaining. 

But with that management and tact, which are entirely 
practicable, there will be a nearer and nearer approximation 
to this condition every year, and it is my abiding belief, 
after much reflection, the happy result will ultimately be 
attained. Be this as it may, a great benefit will arise from 
even an approach to it. 

Such an institution, however, would not meet the general 
want. It would interfere too largely and unfavorably with 
home comforts and influences. Few parents would be willing 
to have their children so long separated from them. But 
for orphans and those children who are destitute of suitable 
homes, such institutions, under wise and genial government, 
would be of incalculable benefit. For a shorter period, (as 
the number of years ordinarily allowed at school), by the 
hands of the children "ministering to their own necessities," 
like those of the Apostle, the expense of education could 
be greatly diminished, while the value of their acquirements, 
in the combined intellectual and physical education and 
training they had received, would be incomparably increased. 

Every young person, whatever his or her circumstances 
may be, should, while obtaining an education, acquire the 
knowledge of a trade or of some industrial employment 
to fall back upon, if necessary, so as to gain an hGnest 
livelihood. Such acquirement would be a gTeat safeguard, 
and a means of preservation from vice and crime, of a value 
scarcely to be estimated. 

By statistics, recently prepared by General Eaton, the 



present efficient United States Commissioner of Education, it 
is shown that "from eighty to ninety per cent, of the 
criminals of New England have never learned any trade, 
nor are they masters of any skilled labor ! ' 1 

The subject of Industrial Schools commends itself in 
every feature to the thoughtful consideration of all philan- 
thropists. Such change in the system of education as they 
would require must necessarily be slow. But parents, and 
others similarly interested, should be impressed with its im- 
portance. Then a commencement can be made, and being 
once properly commenced, although some privations and in- 
conveniences will be experienced at first, these will gradually 
be overcome, and it will proceed with an increasing ratio of 
benefits to the individuals and the community. 

Children will be healthier from the harmonious exercises 
and development of body and mind, neither of these being 
overworked or underworked so as to produce deleterious 
effects, and thus mothers would be furnished with stronger 
constitutions, and a general improvement in the foundation 
of society be established. 

Needed Modification of the Laws for a System 
of Free Schools. Proposed Laws and Curri- 
culum for a Free School System. 

The laws proposed for the public school system need a 
modification in one or two points. Instead of requiring chil- 
dren to attend school for a certain length of time, they 
should require that they should possess a certain amount of 
knowledge by specified ages, and let the children and their 
parents or guardians know what they have to do, and what 
is expected of them, and leave them at liberty to effect this 
in their own way, so that it gets done, and then to pro- 
vide some efficient means of knowing that it is done. It 
would certainly be better and cost less to have examiners 
to see that the children do know, than a police to see that 



they attend schools, for the police would have to be on duty 
daily, "while the examiners would he required but a few days 
at most in a year. 

The laws should he made for all children, and both 
sexes should comply with them in every part, including the 
use of tools, which may be made so smooth, light, and deli- 
cate, as to suit the softest hand, and then after the practical 
education, as far as required by the common school system, 
it may be extended as much further and in such direction 
as the children and their parents or guardians desire. 

But, in order that the system of public or common 
schools shall be successful, the requirements that are made 
by law should be imperatively binding on all and, cheerfully 
acquiesced in and faithfully supported by all classes of 

In no way can a man of the wealthier class confer a 
more valuable benefit upon his child and upon the community 
in which he lives, than to have a neighborhood school, at 
which this foundation for an education can be successfully 
laid for every child, by the time it is fifteen years old. 
No better investment can any parent or guardian make than 
the outlay required to secure the six years of intelligent and 
skilled labor from fifteen to twenty - one. 

I will here present, in order to invite consideration and 
reflection, such a course for public or free school education 
as my judgment and experience at present approve, but of 
course to be subject to such modification as the combined 
wisdom and experience of practical educators shall approve 
and adopt. It is presented as only a "block" from which 
may be hewn what is needed. 

The law should be headed : "The State requires the edu- 
cation of all children between the ages of five and fifteen, who 
are physically and mentally qualified to receive, etc.," and 
then enact : 

Article I. It shall be the duty of every parent or guar- 
dian having charge of children to have his or her child or 
ward educated by the time it is six years old, so far as to 
know and draw on a slate the letters of the alphabet, large 



and small ; to spell simple words of three letters ; to count 
one hundred ; to know and make on a slate the ten digits 
and the Koman numbers as far as ten ; to copy simple 
drawings, and to use the gimlet, screw - driver, and hammer 
with dexterity and precision. 

Article DL By the time the child is nine years old, in 
addition to the knowledge required in Article I., to spell and 
read through the Speller and earliest Reader of the district 
schools ; to write on paper ; to know the Multiplication 
Table, and to be able to perform the four primary rules in 
Arithmetic, Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication, and Divis- 
ion ; to make or express the Eoman numbers to C | one hun- 
dred) ; to copy more complex drawings ; to use the sewing 
needle in sewing seams, sewing on buttons and working but- 
ton-holes, and exhibit specimens of his or her work to the 
Board of Examiners ; to use the tools mentioned in Article 
L, with the addition of a saw, and exhibit to the Board 
of Examiners a box or some useful article of wood of his 
or her own make. 

Akticle III. By the time the child is twelve years old, 
in addition to what is required in Articles L and EL, to go 
through an advanced Speller and Reader, adopted in the 
schools ; to write a free, fiur hand ; to know the Tables in De- 
nominate Numbers, and perform Addition, Subtraction, Mul- 
tiplication, and Division of Denominate Numbers ; the use of 
tools continued, with some manufactured article by each 
scholar to exhibit to the Board of Examiners ; to draw 
objects from nature ; to commence English Grammar, the 
elements of Geography and of Natural Philosophy, and to 
sew on the sewing-machine, with a specimen of the work 
of each scholar to exhibit to the Board of Examiners. 

Article IV. By the time the child is fifteen years old, 
in addition to what is required in the three preceding Arti- 
cles, to continue in advanced Spelling and Reading ; to write 
a free, good hand ; to understand Vulgar and Decimal Frac- 
tions, the Square Root. Duodecimals, Mensuration of Surfaces 
and Solids : drawing objects from nature continued ; the use 
of tools continued, elements of English Grammar continued ; 



elements of Natural Philosophy continued, type-setting and 
printing with printing-press. 

Article V. School Commissioners who are in sympathy 
with the State in its great object, the education of all, shall 
be appointed, one from each school district for each county, 
by the judge or judges of the County Court, to serve three 
years, any three of whom, at a time, by their own selection 
and arrangement, shall constitute a Board of Examiners, who 
shall attend at each school, as nearly as practicable, at the 
commencement and close of each school year, to examine 
the scholars and see that the object of the State is being 
faithfully carried out, and to act in all cases in such way as 
they think best calculate! to effect this object. 

Article VI. The Board of Examiners shall be competent 
to make any abatement in the prescribed studies (except the 
industrial ones in Articles I. and II.), for certain scholars, 
or the entire school, which they may think will be promo- 
tive of the interest of such scholars or of the school. 

The studies prescribed are those to which it is the de- 
sign of the State that all the children in the State shall 
ultimately be educated at the ages indicated. When a child 
cannot pass an examination such as the Board of Examiners 
prescribes for the age of six years, he or she is to be re- 
garded as under sLv, till the next examination, or until the 
scholar does pass the examination creditably. The same course 
is to be pursued at any other of the ages mentioned, nine, 
twelve, and fifteen. 

Article YII. The Board of Examiners shall be authorized 
to distribute premiums or " graded medals of merit," on 
behalf of the State or county, to the scholars for observed 
proficiency and good conduct during the examinations, or on 
the recommendation of the teacher. 

Article VIII, The School Commissioners shall require 
each teacher to furnish the Board of Examiners, annually, 
with a list of the names and ages of all the children 
between four and fifteen years, within the prescribed limits 
of that school. 

It cannot be too strongly impressed on the mind of the 



reader that the foregoing course or plan of study is pre- 
sented merely in order to have something before the public 
in the direction of what is desired : but the plan must be 
matured and perfected by the combined wisdom and experience 
of practical educators and the friends of "the education of 
aft. children by the State. * r 

The Board of Examiners will save themselves much labor 
by securing for each school a competent, industrious, lite teacher, 
whose heart is in sympathy with the great object before him. 

Although the teaching should be free to all, I am strongly 
in favor of books, tools, drawing materials, etc.. being fur- 
nished by the scholars. What costs absolutely nothing is sel- 
dom if ever adequately appreciated. 

By the scholars furnishing the things they use, these will 
be more valued and be likely to have more care taken of 

With the existence of the Public or Free School system, 
in order to render its influence fully efficient, there must co- 
exist Normal schools for the education of teachers, to which 
no one should be admitted who has not taught for at least 
one school term, so as to realize any existing deficiency in his 
or her education, and thus be stimulated to make the neces- 
sary e3brt to remove such deficiency. 

All the text-books in the schools of the State should be 
of the same kind on the same subject, and constitute a regu- 
lar series, so that one book will not cover the ground occupied 
by another. Then, at certain periods, say once in ten years, 
these text books should be revised by a judicious and compe- 
tent committee, so as to keep up with the new discoveries. 
The additional matter should be printed in a separate form, 
and be inserted in or used with the old books, so as not to 
impose on parents the expense of procuring a new book for a 
few additional pages. 

No new books should be introduced into the public 
schools except at the time of such revision. 

Self-preservation imposes upon our government the duty 
of educating the people sufficiently to qualify them to exercise 
intelligently the right of suffrage. Conscious of this, at the 



commencement of the government, every free State established a 
system of free schools. So great and beneficent has been 
the influence of these schools npon the people, that the 
material prosperity, intellectual and moral development, respect 
for law, and obedience to it in each State, may be measured 
and computed by the condition of the free public schools. 

In the city of New York it costs more to support the Po- 
lice and Police Courts, to restrain and punish a few thousand 
criminals, nearly all of whom became such for want of proper 
education, than to educate their two hundred and thirty thousand 
children ! 

In the whole United States the facts are derived from offi- 
cial statistics, that the crimes committed by illiterate persons 
are ten times the number committed by educated ones. In 
short, it appears from statistics, that crime decreases almost in 
the same ratio that schools increase. 

Those unerring guides of the statesman — statistics — demon- 
strate that the most economical, effective, and powerful prevent- 
ive of crime is the free common school. Universal education 
tends to universal morality. They also show that as education 
increases, pauperism decreases, and as education decreases, pauper- 
ism increases. 

Society may therefore well afford to make liberal provision 
for universal education, since it thereby not only rids itself 
comparatively of ignorance, but also of the dread and costly 
attendants of ignorance, pauperism and crime. 





The Book-keeper's Dream. 


The day had wearily worn to its close, 
And night had come down with its needed repose. 
As a book-keeper wended his way from the store, 
Glad that his toilsome hours were o'er. 

The night was cheerless and dismal and damp ; 
And the flickering flame of the dim street lamp, 
Went out in the wild rough gust that beat 
With furious speed through the gloomy street. 

Tired and cold, with pain -throbbing head, 

He sank to repose in his lonely bed ; 

Still, through his brain, as the book-keeper slept, 

Visions of Debtor and Creditor crept. 

The great balance-sheet he had finished that day, 
And profit and loss in the usual way. 
Showed how much money the merchant had made, 
Or lost in the preceding twelve months' trade. 

And he dreamed that night, that an angel came, 
With the Ledger of Life; and against his name 
Were charges, till there was no room to spare, 
And nothing whatever was credited there. 

There was life .and its blessings, as intellect, health ; 
There were charges of time, opportunities, wealth, 
Of talents for good, of friendships the best, 
Of nourishment, joys, affection, apd rest. 


And hundreds of others, and each one as great, 
All with interest accrued from the time of their date 
Till, despairing of e'er being able to pay, 
The book-keeper shrank from the record away. 

But the angel declared the amount must be paid, 
And protested it could not be longer delayed ; 
The book-keeper sighed, and began to deplore 
How meagre the treasure he'd laid up in store. 

He would cheerfully render all he'd acquired, 
And his note on demand, for the balance required ; 
Then quickly the angel took paper and wrote 
The following, as an acceptable note : — 

"On demand, without grace, from the close of to-day, 
For value received, I promise to pay 
To Him who has kept me, and everywhere 
Has guarded my soul with infinite care, 

Whose blessings outnumber the drops of the ocean, 
While living, the sum of ray heart s best devotion; 
In witness whereof, to be seen of all men, 
I affix the great seal of the soul's Amen.''' 

The book-keeper added his name to the note, 
While the angel across the ledger page wrote, 
In crimson letters that covered it o'er, 
"Settled in full and was seen no more. 

Ode to Disappointment. 


Come, Disappointment, come ! 

Though from Hope's summit hurled, 
Still, rigid nurse, thou art forgiven, 
For thou, severe, wert sent from Heaven, 

To wean me from the world ; 



To turn my eye from vanity, 

And point to scenes of bliss that never, never die. 

What is this passing scene? 

A peevish April day, 
A little sun, a little rain, 
And then night sweeps across the plain, 

And all things fade away. 
Man soon discussed, yields up his trust, 
And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust. 

The most belov'd on earth, 

Not long survives to - day ; 
So music past is obsolete, 
And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet, 

But now 'tis gone away ! 
Thus does the shade in memory fade, 
When in forsaken tomb the form belov'd is laid. 

Then, since this world is vain. 

And volatile and fleet, 
Why should I lay up earthly joys, 
Where rust corrupts and moth destroys, 

And cares and sorrows eat ? 
Why fly from ill. with anxious skill, 
When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart 

be still? 


Come, Disappointment come ! 

Thou art not stern to me, 
Sad Monitress ! I own thy sway, 
A votary sad, in early day, 

I bend my knee to thee : 
From sun to sun, my race will run, 
I only bow and say, My God, thy will be done. 



At Port Royal.— 1861. 


The tent -lights glimmer on the land, 

The ship -lights on the sea ; 
The night -wind smooths, with drifting sand, 

Our track on lone Tybee. 

At last our grating keels outslide, 

Our good boats forward swing ; 
And while we ride the land-locked tide, 

Our negroes row and sing. 

For dear the bondman holds his gifts 

Of music and of song : 
The gold that kindly nature sifts 

Among his sands of wrong ; 

The power to make his toiling days 
And poor home - comforts please ; 

The quaint relief of mirth, that plays 
With sorrow's minor keys. 

Another glow than sunset's fire 

Has filled the west with light, 
Where field and garner, barn and byre 

Are blazing through the night. 

The land is wild with fear and hate, 

The rout runs mad and fast ; 
From hand to hand, from gate to gate 

The flaming brand is passed. 

The lurid glow falls strong across 
Dark faces broad with smiles ; 


Not theirs the terror, hate, and loss 
That tire yon blazing piles. 

With oar -strokes timing to their song, 

They weave in simple lays 
The pathos of remembered wrong, 

The hope of better days. 

The triumph - note that Miriam sung, 
The joy of uncaged birds ; 

Softening with Afric's mellow tongue 
Their broken Saxon words. 

Milton ox His Loss of Sight. 


I am old and blind ! 

Men point at me as smitten by God's frown ; 
Afflicted and deserted of my kind ; 

Yet am I not cast down. 

I am weak, yet strong ; 

I murmur not that I no longer see ; 
Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong, 

Father supreme ! to Thee. 

O, merciful One ! 

When men are farthest, then art Thou most near 
"When friends pass by me, and my weakness shun, 

Thy chariot I hear. 

Thy glorious face 

Is leaning towards me ; and its holy light 
Shines in upon my lonely dwelling place — 

And — there is no more night. 



On my bended knee, 

I recognize Thy purpose, clearly shown ; — 
My vision Thou hast dimmed, that I may see 

Thyself— Thyself alone. 

I have nought to fear ; 

This darkness is the shadow of Thy wing ; 
Beneath it, I am almost sacred ; here 

Can come no evil thing. 

O, I seem to stand 

Trembling, where foot of mortal ne'er hath been, 
Wrapped in the radiance of Thy sinless land, 

Which eye hath never seen. 

Visions come and go ; 

Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng ; 
From angel lips I seem to hear the flow 

Of soft and holy song. 

Is it nothing now, 

When heaven is opening on my sightless eyes? 
When airs from Paradise refresh my brow, 

The earth in darkness lies. 

In a purer clime, 

My being fills with rapture — waves of thought 
Roll in upon my spirit. — strains sublime 

Break over me unsought. 

Give me now my lyre ! 

I feel the stirrings of a gift divine ; 
Within my bosom glows unearthly fire, 

Lit by no skill of mine. 



The Closing Scene. 


1 1 1 think this is one of the most snggestive and tonching 
little poems I ever met with. Every line seems to awaken 
tender and touching memories, and the last stanza is beyond 
description. B. H." 

Within the sober realms of leafless trees 
The russet Year inhaled the dreamy air ; 

Like some tanned reaper in his hour of ease, 
When all the fields are lying brown and bare. 

The gray Barns, looking from their hazy hills 
O'er the dim waters widening in the vales, 

Sent down the air a greeting to the Mills, 
On the dull thunder of alternate flails. 

All sights were mellowed and all sound subdued ; 

The hills seemed further and the stream saug low ; 
As in a dream, the distant woodman hewed 

His winter log, with many a muflied blow. 

The embattled forests, erewhile armed with gold, 
Their banners bright with every martial hue, 

Now stood, like some sad. beaten host of old, 
Withdrawn afar in Time's remotest blue. 

On sombre wings the vulture tried his flight ; 

The dove scarce heard its sighing mate's complaint ; 
And like a star slow drowning in the light, 

The village church vane seemed to pale and faint. 

The sentinel cock upon the hillside crew ; 

Crew thrice, and all was stiller than before ; 
Silent, till some replying warder blew 

His alien horn, and then was heard no more. 



Where erst the jay, within the elm's tall ciest, 
Made garrulous trouble round her unfledged young, 

And where the oriole hung her swaying nest, 
By every light wind, like a censer swung ; 

Where sang the noisy masons of the eaves, 

The busy swallows, circling ever near, 
Foreboding, as the rustic mind believes, 

An early harvest and a plenteous year ; 

Where every bird which charmed the vernal feast, 
Shook the sweet slumber from its wings at morn, — 

To warn the reaper of the rosy east ; 

All now was songless, empty, and forlorn. 

Alone from out the stubble piped the quail, 
And croaked the crow through all the dreary gloom j 

Alone the pheasant, drumming in the vale, 
Made echo to the distant cottage loom. 

There was no bud, no bloom upon the bowers ; 

The spiders wove their thin shrouds night by night ; 
The thistle-down, the only ghost of flowers, 

Sailed slowly by, passed noiseless out of sight. 

Amid all this, in this most cheerless air, 

And where the woodbine shed upon the porch 

Its crimson leaves, as if the Year stood there, 
Firing the floor with his inverted torch ; 

Amid all this, the center of the scene, 

The white-haired matron, with monotonous tread, 

Plied the swift wheel, and with her joyless mien, 
Sat like a Fate, and watched the flying thread. 

She had known sorrow : he had walked with her, 
Oft supped, and broke with her the ashen crust ; 

And in the dead leaves still she heard the stir 
Of his thick mantle, trailing in the dust. 



"While yet her cheek was bright with summer bloom, 
Her country summoned, and she gave her all ; 

And twice War bowed to her his sable plume ; 
Re -gave the sword to rust upon her wall. 

Re -gave the sword, but not the hand that drew, 
And struck for liberty the dying blow ; 

Nor him who, to his sire and country true, 
Fell 'mid the ranks of the invading foe. 

Long, but not loud, the droning wheel went on, 
Like the low murmur of a hive at noon ; — 

Long, but not loud, the memory of the gone 

Breathed through her lips a sad and tremulous tune. 

At last the thread was snapped ; her head was bowed ; 

Life dropped the distaif through her hands serene ; 
And loving neighbors smoothed her careful shroud, 

While death and winter closed the autumn scene. 

Address to the Sun. — Ossian. 
" Oh thou that rollest above, round as the shield of 
my fathers! Whence are thy beams, oh Sun — thy ever- 
lasting light ? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty ; 
the stars hide themselves in the sky ; the moon, cold 
and pale, sinks in the western wave; but thou thy-, 
self movest alone. Who can be a companion of thy 
course? The oaks of the mountains fall; the mountains 
themselves, decay with years ; the ocean shrinks and 
grows again ; the moon herself is lost in heaven ; — but 
thou art forever the same, rejoicing in the brightness of 
thy course. 

When the world is dark with tempests, when thunder 
rolls, and lightning flies, thou lookest in thy beauty 
from the clouds, and laughest at the storm. 



But to Ossian thou lookest in vain ; for he beholds thy 
beams no more; whether thy yellow hair flows on the 
eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates of the 
west. But thou art, perhaps, like me, for a season ; thy 
years will have an end. Thou shalt sleep in the clouds, 
careless of the voice of the morning. 

Exult then, O Sun, in the strength of thy youth ! 
Age is dark and unlovely; it is like the glimmering 
light of the moon when it shines through broken 
clouds, and the mist is on the hills ; the blast of the 
north is on the plain, and the traveler shrinks in the 
midst of his journey. 

The Prayer of Agassiz. 

The Christian Union (H. W. Beecher), speaking of 
the speech of Professor Agassiz at the opening of the 
Anderson School of Natural History, says, "After a 
few opening words, felicitously suited to put all their 
minds into fellowship, Agassiz said, tenderly, and w T ith 
touching frankness, ' I think we have need of help. 
I do not feel that I can call on any one here to ask a 
blessing for us. I know I would not have anybody 
pray for us at this moment. I ask you for a moment 
to pray for yourselves.' Upon this, the great scientist 
— in an age when so many other great scientists have 
concluded that praying is quite an unscientific and very 
useless proceeding — bowed his head reverently ; his 
pupils and friends did the same ; and there, in a silence 
that was very solemn and very beautiful, each spirit was 
free to crave of the Great Spirit the blessing that was 



For our own part, it seems to us that this scene of 
Agassiz and his pupils, with heads bowed in silent 
prayer for the blessing of the God of Xature, to be 
given to that school, then opened for the study of 
nature, is a spectacle for some great artist to spread out 
worthily upon canvas, and to be kept alive in the 
memories of mankind. What are coronations, royal 
pageants, the parade of armies, to a scene like this? 
It heralds the coming of the new heavens and the new 
earth, — the golden age, when nature and man shall be 
reconciled, and the conquests of truth shall supersede 
the conquests of brute force. 

How to Break a Bad Habit. 

Understand clearly the reasons, and all the reasons, 
why the habit is injurious. Study the subject till there 
is no lingering doubt in your mind. 

Avoid the places, the persons, the thoughts, that lead 
to the temptation. 

Frequent the places, associate with the persons, in- 
dulge in the thoughts, that lead away from the temp- 

Keep busy. Idleness is the strength of bad habits. 

Do not give up the struggle, when you have broken 
vour resolutions once, twice, ten times, a thousand times. 
That only shows how much need there is for you to 

When you have broken your resolution, just think 
the matter over, and endeavor to understand why it was 
you failed, so that you may be upon your guard against 
a recurrence of the same circumstances. 



Do not think it a little or an easy thing that you 
have undertaken. 

It is folly to expect to break up a habit in a day, 
which may have been gathering strength in you for years. 

This, in brief, is our answer to a question which is 
put to us by anxious inquirers from ten to twenty times 
a week. 

The Indians. 

The following is df interest as showing the first steps 
taken to give systematic aid to the Indians. 

" On the 16th of 2d month, 1869, the following letter 
was received by the Secretary of the Standing Committee 
on the Indian Concern of Baltimore Yearly Meeting of 
Friends, which committee was organized in 1795, and 
has been engaged, from that time, with an unbroken 
organization, in endeavoring to promote the interests and 
welfare of these people: 

''Headquarters Army of the U. S. 

Washington, D. C, Feb. 15, 1869. 

Benjamin Hallowell, Sandy Spring, Md. 

Sir : — General Grant, the President elect, desirous of inau- 
gurating some policy to protect the Indians in their just rights, 
and enforce integrity in the administration of their affairs, as 
well as to improve their general condition, and appreciating 
fully the friendship and interest which your Society has ever 
maintained in their behalf, directs me to request that you will 
send him a list of names, members of your Society, whom your 
Society will endorse as suitable persons for Indian Agents. 

Also, to assure you, that any attempt which may or can be 
made by your Society, for the improvement, education, and 



Christianization of the Indians, nnder such agencies, will re- 
ceive from him, as President, all the encouragement and 
protection which the laws of the United States will warrant 
him in giving. 

Very respectfully, your obedient servant, 

Brevet Brig. Gen. U. S. A. and A. D. C. 

A letter of similar import was sent to the other 
branch of Friends in Philadelphia. A convention of 
delegates from several Yearly Meetings of the Society 
was held at Lombard Street Meeting House in Baltimore, 
to take action in what was regarded as a very important 
matter. A circular was issued, giving information of the 
qualifications desired in the Agents, as follows: 

1st. A prayerful heart, and a firm trust in the 
power and wisdom of God — and not in man or military 
force — for guidance and protection. 

2d. Industry, economy, firmness, vigilance, mildness, 
and practical kindness and love. 

3d. A knowledge of farming and gardening, ability 
to superintend the construction of buildings, and to see 
that the schools are properly conducted. 

4th. Tact in managing or influencing persons, so as 
gradually to induce the Indians of his agency volun- 
tarily to join in the various employments of farming and 
gardening, and in mechanical operations. 

Lastly, high in the scale of qualifications, to be 
possessed of strict integrity, and to be perfectly reliable 
in financial matters, and to know how to employ with 
economy, and to the best advantage, the funds entrusted 
to him by the Government for the use of his agency. 

On the 5th of Fourth month, 1869, a committee of 
Friends read to the President and Secretary of the Interior 



a memorandum upon the subject, from which the follow- 
ing extracts are taken : 

"The nearer we approach the time for practical ac- 
tion on the request of the President to recommend suita- 
ble persons, members of our Society, for Indian Agents, 
the more weighty appears the responsibility of encourag- 
ing our members, in the prime of life, to isolate them- 
selves for a number of years from the moral protection 
and social intercourse of our religious organization, and 
subject themselves to the hardships and privations of an 
Indian agency and a frontier life. This consideration 
has awakened no little anxiety and concern. 

"Under the belief, however, that there is always a 
rignt way to attain a right end, an effort has been made 
by us to devise some means of alleviating in a measure 
the separated condition of those of our members who 
may think it right to engage in the undertaking. 

" Upon much reflection, it is believed that this can 
be done by having an entire superintendency placed 
under the care of Friends. Each agent should be allowed 
to name the farmer, teacher, mechanic, and other em- 
ployees of his agency, subject to the same recommenda- 
tion by the Society that he himself receives, and con- 
firmation by the appointing power. Then all these, 
together with their families, which some of them would 
have, would form at each agency a little community of 
Friends, where they could continue their social and re- 
ligious privileges. By such means, we believe they 
would be preserved in that mental and moral condition 
which would be most favorable to the performance of 
their duties, in the civilization, enlightenment, and moral 
and physical improvement of the Indians. 

It is proposed also to haye a committee of three or 



four older judicious and experienced Friends, who have 
the welfare of the Indians at heart, as well as the faith- 
ful performance of their duties by our members who are 
in their employment, to visit all the agencies of the 
super in tendency placed under our charge, at least once 
a year, and to spend some time amongst them, so as to 
see how things are working, what wants exist, what im- 
provements might be made in their plans of action, and 
how the benevolent objects of the Government might be 
more efficiently carried out, if such a contingency should 

The President and Secretary of the Interior having, 
in accordance with this request, assigned to us the Nor- 
thern Superintendency, which embraces six agencies in 
the State of Nebraska, it was in fulfilment of the duty 
implied in the last paragraph* above, that the delegation 
who made the following report was sent out during the 
past summer. 

When a committee of the Friends presented to the 
President the names of the persons they had selected for 
Superintendent and agents of the Northern Superin- 
tendency, they, on behalf of the Society, read to him an 
address, from which the following is extracted : 

" We are highly gratified with the desire announced 
by the President to inaugurate some policy to protect 
the Indians in their just rights, and enforce integrity in 
the administration of their affairs, as well as to improve 
their general condition. We hail this announcement 
w T ith gladness. We see in it evidence that a benevo- 
lent and righteous effort is to be made by the National 
Government to raise the small remnant of the once 
numerous and populous tribes of our red brethren from 
that depth of misery, wretchedness, and impending ex- 



termination to which they are so sorrowfully sunk by 
the mal-administration of our Indian affairs. 

"In this work of humanity and justice we are will- 
ing and desirous to render every aid in our power. As 
promotive of this end, we have desired that the persons 
whom we may recommend for Indian Agents may not 
only be efficient business men, who have the interests of 
the Indians warm at heart, but such as are really rep- 
resentative men, — of fixed principles, sterling integrity, 
liberal and expanded views, free from sectarian preju- 
dice, and such as recognize the fatherhood of God and 
the brotherhood of all men, and are deeply impressed 
with the filial and fraternal obligations which the recog- 
nition imposes." 

Sandy Spring, Md, 12th Mo. 2±th, 1869. 

Article contributed to the " Baltimore American" 
to show the spirit in which the society of 
Friends accepted the trust of caring for 
the Indians. 

Upon the commencement of the present Adminis- 
tration, a general belief existed that the Indian Bureau 
was in an unhealthy condition, and a desire for its 
improvement prevailed in the mind of every friend of 
humanity and justice. Hence the announcement of 
President Grant, in his inaugural address, that he 
would "favor any course toward them which tends to 
their civilization, Christianization, and ultimate citizen- 
ship," was read with universal gratification throughout 
the country. 

It is acknowledged by all who have had most 
practical experience with the Indians, that the great 



difficulty to be overcome is to gain their confidence ; 
first in the individual who approaches them, and then 
in the Government which stands behind him, afar off. 
This is the great point ; and the Indians having been 
so long deceived, it will require time and tact to attain it. 

It is believed that President Grant, in looking to the 
Friends for some assistance in the improvement in the 
Indians, which he so much desired, was not led thereto 
by any belief in the superiority of theirs over other 
religious organizations, or that the right of membership 
in that Society would impart any qualification for an 
Indian agency ; but that it was because the entire record 
of the Society of Friends towards the Indians, from the 
time of William Penn to the present day, was an 
unbroken one of kindness, justice, and brotherly friend- 
ship, which is traditionally known to the different tribes 
of Indians at this time. 

President Grant's sagacity led him to see that these 
traditional fiefs will give the Society of Friends a 
prestige with the Indians, which, if properly used, 
might tend to restore that confidence in the National 
Government, which has been so sorrowfully impaired 
by the mal-adniinistration of our Indian affairs. 

The request made to the Friends by the President 
was regarded by them in this light solely. It was 
entirely for the benefit of the Indians. They took no 
credit to themselves. The object appeared to them to be 
to use the traditional reputation acquired by those who have 
preceded us in the Society, as a means of producing a 
favorable influence upon the Indians, by giving them 
confidence in us and then in the Government, which se- 
lects our members for Superintendents and Agents 
amongst them. It is to be hoped that a corresponding 



kind, just, peaceful, and brotherly conduct towards them 
afterwards by Superintendents and Agents who are ap- 
pointed, will continue and deepen the impression, and 
convince them that the spirit that actuated William 
Penn still lives in those whom their Great Father, the 
President, sends to reside amongst them and assist them. 

The positions to which the Friends were invited in 
the Indian service, with the hardships and privations 
necessarily attendant upon a frontier life, were, when 
first proposed, very uncongenial to our people, and the 
acceptance of them was regarded as involving a great 
sacrifice of comfort and convenience, and as assuming 
heavy and precarious responsibilities. But the promo- 
tion of the interests and welfare of the Indians had 
been for over a century an object of concern and active 
labor with the Society, and now, when they were in- 
vited to a wider field of usefulness, they did not feel at 
liberty to refuse to enter it. We hailed with gladness 
the announcement of the President's desire "to inaugur- 
ate some policy to protect the Indians in their just 
rights, and enforce integrity in the administration of 
their affairs." — (Letter from Gen. E. S. Parker.) We 
saw in it evidence that the benevolent and righteous ef- 
fort was to be made by the National Government to 
raise the small remnant of the once populous tribes of 
our Red Brethren, who, as one of their number recently 
expressed it to us, " are fast dwindling away ! falling like 
the leaves of the forest, to rise no more" from the depth 
of misery, wretchedness, and impending extermination to 
which they have been so sorrowfully sunk. 

In this work of humanity and justice we are willing 
and desirous to render every aid in our power. We ac- 
cepted the invitation so kindly extended to us; and it 



was the concern and aim of the Society that those whom 
they should recommend for Superintendents and Agents 
should not only be possessed of efficient business qualifi- 
cations, and have the interests of the Indian warm at 
heart, but be really representative men — of fixed princi- 
ples, sterling integrity, liberal and expanded views, 
free from sectarian prejudice, and such as recognize 
the fatherhood of God, and the brotherhood of all men, 
and are deeply impressed with the filial and fraternal 
obligations which this recognition imposes. 

The following portion of the advice recently issued 
by the Society to the Superintendents and Agents, 
although written with no prospect whatever of its 
being published, is appended as an evidence of the feel- 
ings and concern with which the Friends are actuated 
in their practical proceedings in this very interesting 
engagement : 

" We feel a deep solicitude that there may be no 
collision, interference, or difficulty in regard to the Mis- 
sions or Mission schools established on the reservations 
to which you are assigned. These Missions, as we are 
informed, are under the immediate charge of the In- 
dian Department and report directly to it, and not 
through the Agent or Superintendent. While there is 
need therefore of great caution that no feeling of 
jealousy or unfavorable criticism be permitted to arise, 
there is at the same time a relief from responsibility 
from their not being placed under your charge, so that 
you may conscientiously feel privileged to let them en- 
tirely alone. 

"Although a concern or uneasiness may arise from an 
apprehension that the course pursued at these Missions 
or in their schools may not be the one which you think 



is best calculated to subserve the interests and promote 
the welfare of the Indians of your agency, yet any 
manifestation of opposition, hostility, or controversy, 
among the professors of the religion and civilization for 
the sake of which the Indians are invited and urged to 
leave the long - cherished traditions and customs of their 
fathers, would be far more unfavorable and deleterious, 
and highly calculated to mar the work from which so 
much is hoped. 

" It is therefore our earnest desire and concern that 
there may be an unslifmbering watch maintained upon 
this important point, that, like Abraham and Lot, there 
may be "no strife between you and them/' for the pre- 
cious reason that " ye be brethren ;" but, on the contrary, 
that all due and faithful friendship, cordiality, kindness, 
and harmony of effort between them and you may be 
maintained on your part throughout, thus indicating that 
we had been successful in what we have stated should 
be our aim, in selecting those whom we should recom- 
mend as Agents. 

" The comparative success of your labors and theirs 
must and will be the test as to which of your plans 
and systems possesses the greatest merit. 

"And it can be predicted in advance, that this will 
be the one which practically rests upon good works — 
kindness, love, candor, justice, charity, good -will, and 
brotherly friendship to all — to the Indians and to those 
whose lots may be cast amongst them." 

Benjamin Hallowell, 

Secretary of the Committee on the Indian Concern of Balti- 
more Yearly Meeting of Friends. 

Sandy Spring, Md., 6th mo. 21st, 1869. 



Letter of H. B. "Whipple, Bishop of Minnesota. 

Faribault, April 16th, 1869. 

"My Dear Friend: — I am very glad that your Society 
have decided to take hold of this Indian business. You will 
have trials and difficulties beyond anything you have ever met, 
but God will help you. You ask my advice. I can only 
say, Do not allow any one to be concerned with you, unless 
you are assured, beyond question, of his integrity. Many of 
the old Indian rings will profess ^such love for the poor 
Indians and such respect for Friends, that Satan would seem 
to have put on the dress of an angel of light. You cannot 
afford the risk of taking counsel, or employing any one you 
do not know. Be sure of tJiis. 

The Indians have been so long deceived, it will take time 
to regain confidence ; but your p.eople will do it. 

The first requisite in civilization is authority to give to 
every Indian a piece of land to be his own. You must 
be able to do it. Men have no manhood until they have 
personal rights. 

2d. You need to teach them to labor. The Indian men 
are unused to it ; the muscles of their arms are poorly de- 
veloped, much less than their women. It should be gradual — 
say a given number of hours a day ; and those who wi rk 
should be encouraged by small gifts in payment, as tea, 
sugar, coffee, etc. 

3d. You would do well to teach the boys or young men 
the use of tools. A rude table, or chair, or trunk, or bed- 
stead, made by them, is worth more than the most valuable 
furniture. It may be a question where you are to begin. If 
your people have selected no place, I would have advised 
you to be sure to select a people who have good land, which 
will repay effort. I should have been deeply grateful to have 
you come to Minnesota. The Chippewas have an excellent 
country at White Earth, at Leech Lake, and at Red Lake. 
But you will decide best. 



The things necessary to elevate the Indians : 
1st. Knowledge of God and duty to Him. 
2d. Personal rights of property. 
3d. Protection of law. 
4th. Habits of industry. 
5th. Education. 

The whole matter is one of simple common sense. The 
same rule is good with Indians as with whites. It may be 
a heart-aching work, but if one soul is saved, if the load is 
lightened from one poor heart, you will be overpaid. Pray- 
ing God to bless you, 

With much love, yours faithfully, 




Copy of a letter in reply to one from a Friend living 
in the Ohio Valley, whom I have never seen, and who 
took some exception to part of my communication in 
" Friends' Intelligencer," volume 31, No. 48, as " tinctured 
with Universalism," and inquiring what I understand 
and do with the text, Matthew xxv., verses 45, 46 : 
" These shall go away into everlasting punishment, but 
the righteous into life eternal." 

Sandy Spring, Md., 3d Mo. 2d, 1875. 

Dear Friend : — Thy favor of the 3d ult. was duly re- 
ceived, but having had a press of writing on hand, with other 
duties, I have not till this morning been able to acknowledge 
its reception and notice its contents. 

I am much gratified with the tenor of thy letter, and 



particularly with the affectionate manner of which thou speak- 
est of thy "wife and two dear little daughters," to whom 
please extend the love, warm from the heart of an old man 
who knew and loved thy children's grandfather, and their great- 
grandfather, who lived for many years only about three and 
a half miles from where I am now writing this letter. 

It is evident our hearts are together, both drawn into the 
Good Father's love, even though our judgments or understand- 
ings may not coincide on some points. It is thought by some 
that if the heart is right, that is all which is needed. I do not 
so regard it. The whole man must be perfect. The heart 
knows nothing. It feels, and is the seat of the emotions and af- 
fections, but it has no knowledge, no understanding, no judg- 

The affections, as benevolence and parental love, may 
prompt to a liberality and an indulgence that will involve an 
expenditure " beyond the means," and will thus violate the 
principle of justice, and it will need the healthy restraint 
of the understanding or judgment. Truth is more in har- 
mony with man's nature than error, and is therefore always 
to be preferred ; and truth brings into harmonious exercise and 
united healthy action all these gracious powers, the emotions 
and the judgment, the heart and the understanding or reason, 
which are both illuminated by the same glorious effulgence, and 
both are the goo£ gifts of the same Eternal Father. I have 
long regarded the closing sentence of " Junius' s Letters" as a 
pure gem of crystallized thought: u To inform the understand- 
ing corrects and enlarges the heart. 11 

When a person makes a communication to the public, 
spoken or written, he must depend upon any truth such com- 
munication may contain to make its own way, by meeting the 
witness for truth in the minds of his hearers or readers. There- 
fore thou needst entertain no apprehension whatever of my 
"feeling hurt" by thy writing as thou didst. Far from it. 

But while I do not feel that it is required of me to at- 
tempt to explain any particular passages of Scripture that may 
be presented, such a one for instance as thou hast given me 
(Matthew xxv., 45th and 46th verses), I feel willing to give 



thee my views of the required preparation of the heart and 
understanding for reading the Scriptures to profit, which may 
he gathered from the following. 

To the object of man's worship, there is naturally a ten- 
dency to conform his life and assimilate his character; that is, 
man will endeavor to be like what he loves. Hence, the more 
elevated, pure, lovely, merciful, kind, just, and true is the 
object of man's worship (his God), the higher will be his aspir- 
ations and aims, and the more elevated, pure, lovely, merciful, 
kind, just, and true will be his life effort. "With the pure, 
Thou wilt show Thyself pure." — Psalm xviii., 25 and 26. 

Different persons call the object of their worship by the 
same name — God, — while their ideas of the attributes of their 
objects of worship may be very different, taking their coloring 
from the reflex of their own hearts. They are then in this 
sense worshiping different Gods, and endeavoring to be like 
and conform their lives and characters to very different con- 
ditions of existence. 

As the Psalmist inquires, xciv., 9, "He that planteth 
the ear, shall He not hear? He that formed the eye, shall He 
not see?" so He that implanted the principles of justice, 
love, mercy, compassion in the hearts and judgments of men, 
shall not He be everlastingly just, loving, merciful, and com- 
passionate, — even far more so than the tenderest earthly 

Now, couldst thou reconcile it to thy ideas of justice and 
mercy to keep one of those precious little daughters to whom 
thou refers, and towards whom my heart yearns in tenderness, 
in torment or suffering for a year, for an error of a minute, 
let alone eternally for the brief span of man's life? or that the 
suffering and torment should continue any longer than they 
are required as means of reformation ? Would it not rather 
be vindictive and cruel to do so ? Now, the God that J wor- 
ship will not permit me for a moment to entertain such an 
idea of Him. He tells me He never gave life but for enjoy- 
ment ; He never created but to bless, and He being infinite in 
justice, wisdom, love, and mercy, it is impossible that any of 
His purposes shall fail of their accomplishment. 




Any person who believes that the All -Father inflicts ever- 
lasting punishment, for a finite offense, and without affording 
opportunity for amendment and repentance, does not worship 
the same God that I do, however nearly our hearts may be 
drawn together in love and charity. 

Thy sincere friend. 


On Prayer. 


SANDY Spring, Md., 6th Mb. 2 1st, 1875. 

Dear Friend : — * * * * I am made willing to re- 
late some of my experiences. If ever a person had received 
supernatural aid by prayer, I think I would have been favored 
by it. For over thirty years of my life, " prayer on bended 
knee" was my great dependence. I would wander out into 
the woods and other solitary places, and wherever I would 
find a secluded spot, I would kneel in supplication for that 
supernatural iaflucner, which, although I had never experienced 
it, I was educated to believe was communicated to some ; and 
I still hoped for it and believed I would yet some time be 
favored with it, if I continued devoted and faithful. 

In my long journey West in 1863, on several occasions, 
when a concern would be before my mind for several days 
previous to reaching a meeting, so that I would follow out 
the connections of the concern, and somewhat mature the 
subject before me, I was sensible that I would speak to better 
effect on the audience, and with more satisfaction and com- 
fort to myself. But I did not draw from this fact that 
instructive lesson which I now believe, it was calculated to 
teach. I still persisted in being afraid to entertain a subject 
before meeting, thinking, in accordance with my education as 
a Friend, it would them be presented, with Gospel authority 
to coaiisraiiicrie it to the people, and I continued hoping, 



looking for, and praying for this supernatural assistance, which 
I have never yet received. 

This condition, however, had its use. The integrity of 
purpose was blessed. Things would be presented to my mind 
in meeting that I would feel uneasy not to attempt to ex- 
press, and I found a comfort alterwards in having done so. 
This condition of not feeling easy without making the attempt, 
and the attendant satisfaction when I did, was the highest 
authority I was favored with in the ministry. I was kept 
humble and watchful to do the very best I kneiv, which I re- 
garded as the most favorable condition to obtain the assistance 
I desired, and which I still hoped and prayed for. 

Throughout all this exercise, which was strong and deep, 
I was favored with a continued sense of the Good Father's 
preservation, and the comfort of His love, overflowing in my 
heart, with a perfect trust in His wisdom and goodness, and 
an entire willingness to do anything and everything that was 
in my power to please Him, so that I could say from my 
heart, "Thy will be done in all things." Still, I did not re- 
ceive the help I so ardently looked and hoped for. 

At length, a new view gradually unfolded to my mind. It 
seemed to me as if the Good Father was kindly speaking to 
me, saying, "I have given thee of my spirit, as a continual 
guide, and an understanding, capable of comprehending all my 
works and laws, and adapting them to thy purposes, physi- 
cal, intellectual, and spiritual. What more can I give thee, or 
thou reasonably desire?" I was wholly unable to reply, or to 
say in rational terms what it was I had been wanting and 
looking for. 

I came to the full conviction that the spirit and the 
understanding are the tools, so to speak, graciously imparted 
to us, with which we are to work our way through life, 
confident of His aid, in every effort under their direction, to 
do good. He imparts to every soul that is willing and able 
to receive them, all His communicable attributes, love, just- 
ice, truth, purity, holiness, etc., which constitute His spirit in 
man. that is always striving to speak, to raise man spiritedly 
so as to be "at one" with the Father, man's will becoming 



merged in the Divine will. The consciousness of this is the 
basis of true faith, which is the "gift of God." Then we 
mnst do : we must add to our faith virtue, knowledge, 
temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness, and charity 
or Divine love, the crowning labor, that, with the others, 
brings man to be " at one'' with God. These seven princi- 
ples render their full possessor enlightened or wise. "Wis- 
dom hath builded her house, she hath hewn her seven 
pillars." — Prov. ix., 1. 

What appears to me now to be right, in regard to any 
duty, is in the first place, to endeavor to dwell near God, 
continually, through obedience to the gracious influence of 
His spirit, — that is, to "walk humbly with God,'' which 
is recorded as one of the three divine requirements for which 
ability must be afforded. Micah vi., S. Then, to have the 
heart so open to the needs, frailties, and infirmities of hu- 
manity that it will overflow with Divine love, in active de- 
sire for their supply and amelioration, urging me to use all 
the means the Good Father has furnished to effect this end, — 
always to be cheerful and pleasant to old and young, but 
never light or trifling in word or manner, these being incom- 
patible with the habitual consciousness of the Divine presence 
that I entertain. 

Xothixg Created in Vain. 

Dear : — Thou sayest. "Will it do for us to con- 
clude the life-giving stream is. ever useless, valueless, and 
wasted, even though it be hidden in its flowings? We can- 
not so believe in reference to the outward world and its re- 
sources, some of which are still deeply hidden from man's eye. 
May we not rather look upon these as a reserve force, so 
designed by Infinite Wisdom? A hidden stream surely has 
its service.' 1 

My conviction lor a long time has been that nothing 



the Good Being ever created or bestowed was useless. 
As recorded in the early history of creation, so in all time, 
"God saw everything that He had made, and behold, it was 
very good." But the point before my mind when I wrote 
to thee was the needed co-operation of man in the Divine 
economy, or, as a part of it, to render the gifts and bless- 
ings of Providence more practically and abundantly service- 
able than He leaves them, and to which He invites us, as, 
for instance, by the spring gushing forth, showing that the 
waters are in the earth, and could be found beneath the 
surface if sought for. We should not leave Providence to 
do all, nor we in our own wisdom and strength undertake 
to do all, but man should employ the powers with which 
he is endowed, in harmony with the Divine mind, to render 
the good gifts within his reach of more service to himself, 
and consequently to the higher glory of the Supreme Good. 
I will endeavor to render my meaning clearer by illustra- 

Our settlement is very much on a ridge, and of course 
has few streams and but little water-power. A friend and 
neighbor, seeing the difficulty in the neighborhood of getting 
sawing and grinding done, dug a large well and erected a 
steam saw and grist mill. Then, using his knowledge of 
the properties with which the Good Being has endowed 
water, and properly and wisely adapting means to ends, — 
all of which proceed from the one source, — he makes part 
of the water of the well raise another part, to saw timber 
with which to build houses, make fences, and for many 
other conveniences, and also to make flour for the whole 
settlement, etc. Moreover, the cattle drink of the waste water, 
chickens, ducks, and birds sip at the little pools, and 
the whole neighborhood seems benefited by his rendering 
active what was before hidden and comparatively valueless, 
though no doubt good. No known disadvantage or inconve- 
nience in any way arises from his thus tapping the hidden 
stream and employing part of it for these purposes. 

This illustration is from near my home ; a more inter- 
esting one, and on a larger scale, is near thine, in the 



Schuylkill river. That beautiful stream formerly passed on 
directly, to mingle its waters with those of the Delaware, 
and thence to the ocean, until some mind, under the en- 
lightenment of Divine Wisdom, as I fully believe, — for all 
that is good comes from the one source, — by employing His 
laws and the properties with which he endows matter, makes 
a part of it raise another part to a mound, whence it is 
conveyed and distributed, by its own force, to the different 
families, all over your city, bringing comforts, conveniences, 
and blessings through your houses. The Delaware does not 
suffer, nor does the Atlantic ; nothing suffers, and yet how 
many are blessed. 

How great the contrast with what would have been, 
had the river continued to flow on uninterruptedly, as it 
would have done but for these active and enlightened minds. 
In my view, there are many spiritual Schuylkills passing 
quietly on as to the greater river and the ocean, the waters 
of which, by using accessible means, under the direction of 
the wisdom and power that will no more be withheld in 
the spiritual than the physical world, might be distributed to 
comfort, strengthen, and bless many. The clay, sand, and marble 
had their uses in their quiet beds ; but how much greater 
since the enlightenment of man has placed them in the beauti- 
ful and comfortable structures of your city. Also, coal in its 
bed fills undoubtedly its place so far in the Divine econo- 
my ; but when employed as a means adapted to useful 
ends, how much more has it performed to comfort and bless 
man, and thus to glorify God, during the last century, than 
during the thousands of years it had lain quietly in the 

If thou wilt not tire of my illustrations, which seem to * 
crowd upon me, I will refer to iron in the ore, contrasted 
with its use in the needle, the axe, the plough, and the in- 
numerable other useful purposes to whicli it is directed, by 
enlightened intelligence using those laws and properties, which 
are among the good gifts of Providence, the better to adapt 
some of His other gifts to the wants of His rational crea- 
tures. Oh, were there the same life, the same faith, the same 



effort and industry in the spiritual realities and laws, as in 
the physical, with the collection that might and should he 
made of facts and principles furnished by experience, with 
the adaptation of them as means to ends, beginning in early 
life, and pursuing as steadily in the one as tbe other, what 
a different condition of things, in my view, would exist. 
But I am by no means discouraged. I think there is a 
tendency and a progress in this direction. The Great Spirit 
is continually at work. As in the physical world, according 
to the conclusions of those who are most deeply learned in 
the Book of Nature, the vast mountain ranges, such as the 
Andes, Alleghanies, and Rocky Mountains, have been raised, 
little by little — perhaps not over three or four feet in a cen- 
tury, and even more slowly, — but still raised by the means 
He has adapted to that end, always acting in the same di- 
rection, through a period of past time which no one can 
estimate, — so is He raising little by little, higher and higher, 
the mountains of Truth, Justice, Love, and all the elevated 
and ennobling virtues, to be more and more conspicuous, and 
to be beheld in their loveliness and beauty, from greater and 
greater distances, till, in time, they will be seen, loved, ad- 
mired, and practiced by all the families of the earth ; so that 
in a shorter period than has been employed in bringing our 
physical world to its present condition of adaptation to the 
wants of its inhabitants, will the moral and spiritual world 
of the human family, now comparatively so entirely in its in. 
fancy, be brought to fully as advanced a condition. Deity 
never fails of His purpose. He must have intended a higher 
moral condition of mankind generally on this earth than now 
exists ; and that purpose will ultimately be and is now being 
effected, slowly, as comparable to a few feet a century, but is 
destined to go on, until, using a figure of Scripture, "Right- 
eousness shall cover the earth as the waters do the sea." 



Keflections on the Wisdom, Power, axd Goodness 
of God. 

From very early life I have been a lover of nature 
in all its phases; and being impressed with love and 
veneration for the Author of nature, and possessing a 
fondness for tracing evidences of his three great attri- 
butes, Wisdom, Goodness, and Power, throughout all his 
works, I was frequently perplexed to reconcile some 
things with these attributes ; but on waiting reverently 
for light and instruction, they were always afforded to 
my entire satisfaction. Two instances of this kind I feel 
at liberty to mention, to illustrate my meaning. First: 
— When I came to live in the country in 1842, I was 
very much interested in the birds, and wished as many 
as possible to build and remain around my residence. 
Among other birds which commenced building was a 
wren; and to my surprise and dissatisfaction (it not 
harmonizing with my ideas of the goodness of the 
Creator to impart such an instinct), I observed her 
fretful and quarrelsome disposition, driving all the other 
birds away, and thus preventing them from building 
where I wanted them to build. I did not like it. But 
the impression attended my mind, from a conviction 
that all was in wisdom, goodness, and love, that this 
apparent discord was " harmony not understood ;" so I 
continued to be observant of her. 

"All nature is but art, unknown to thee ; 
All chsfcice, direction which thou canst not see ; 
All discord, harmony not understood ; 
All partial evil, universal good." — Pope. 

I noticed that she followed the other birds, in driving 
them away, only a short distance. After a time she 



laid her eggs and hatched her young, some eight or ten 
of them. Then came the feeding time. For a few days 
this was an easy task, but as her progeny grew, and 
required a greater supply, and the food probably becom- 
ing a little scarce by her daily draft upon it, she was 
most incessantly employed from early morning till late 
evening ; and I became fully convinced that if the 
other birds had been gathering for their young also, 
from the same area, as would necessarily have been the 
case, had she not with instinctive prudence driven them 
away and prevented them from building near her, she 
would not have been able, with all her industry, to have 
kept her young family supplied. 

Here was manifestly not a cross or quarrelsome dis- 
position, as I had supposed, but an instinctive observance 
of the law of self-preservation, regarding her offspring as 
part of herself, by obedience to which she did a kindness 
also to the other birds. In my observation I discovered 
to my entire satisfaction that many traits in animals and 
birds which are often regarded as quarrelsome or vindic- 
tive, exhibited between males of the same species, and in 
parents with their young, arise simply from instinctive 
obedience to laws connected with the continuance of the 
species and self-preservation. 

Second : — A similar difficulty attended my mind in 
relation to a hawk taking the chickens, and in recon- 
ciling birds and beasts of prey generally with the 
wisdom and goodness cf a benevolent Providence, until 
I was favored to see that all the animals that are 
annually produced cannot continue through a succession 
of years to be sustained by what the earth produces. 
Some must die. The amount of support which the en- 
tire produce of the earth will yield to the animal crea- 



tion is limited ; only a certain amount annually grows, 
and this will afford only a certain amount of animal 
subsistence ; more when the fertility of the earth is 
greater, less when it is less. Hence if all the animals 
were permitted to live and feed immediately upon the 
produce of the earth, as in the case supposed, without 
animals of prey, they must necessarily do, — that is, 
upon growing and mature vegetables, — since the amount 
of these is but little more in any one year than it was 
in the preceding, while the animals multiply rapidly, 
the result must inevitably be that many or all would 
eventually die of starvation. 

To illustrate this point, suppose one of the best farms 
to be fully stocked, and every animal and fowl produced 
on it permitted to live. They might get through two, 
perhaps three or four years, with what it produced, but 
in the fourth or fifth year at furthest, every green thing 
would be eaten up to support life during the summer, and 
in the succeeding winter all would starve to death. 

Our earth is only a large farm, and if all the 
animals produced on it were permitted to live through 
their natural lives, the same consequences would neces- 
sarily follow ; in a few years all would starve to death ! 
Hence we see the wise ' and benevolent introduction of 
beasts and other animals of prey, in the economy of Provi- 
dence, in places remote from the dominion of man, or be- 
fore he was placed upon the earth, in order that, with the 
existence of those animals which feed immediately upon 
the produce of the earth, other animals which feed on 
these may co-exist, thus preserving a beautiful harmony 
by what frequently is regarded as an evidence of cruelty. 

Every animal which feeds on vegetables is, in the 
natural state, food for some beast or bird of prey, or 


has what is wrongly called its "natural enemy;" hence, 
when any species of those animals which feed imme- 
^ diately on vegetables increase in numbers, food is ren- 
dered more abundant for its "natural enemies," and 
these, therefore increase more rapidly ; thus preventing 
the exhaustion of vegetable food, and preserving a wise 
and harmonious equilibrium. 

This is by no means an evidence of cruelty of 
disposition in the animals of prey ; far from it. It is 
their nature, imparted to them for the most benevolent 
purpose — the preservation, not the destruction, of all 
races of animals. 

They cannot live at all on vegetable food ; they can- 
not digest it ; but they require by nature food which 
has undergone both vegetable and animal organization, 
before they can assimilate it for the support of their 
systems. They are the benevolent instruments of a wise 
Providence acting through instinct, till man, guided by 
enlightened reason, was prepared to take their place to 
prevent the accumulation of an animal population 
beyond what the earth could support, and thus avoid 
the alternative of death by starvation, perhaps the most 
painful of all deaths. Naturalists agree that a beast or 
bird of prey always strikes its victim in the most vital 
part, so that they cause the easiest possible death. In a 
state of nature, a beast of prey never goes for food till 
tirged to do so by hunger ; he then kills immediately 
and eats ; afterwards he lies down and sleeps till hunger 
again arouses him. His enjoyments are consequently of 
the lowest kind ; but still, " wherever there is life there 
is some degree of enjoyment." Hence it is seen, since 
the animals which feed on vegetables have their life and 
enjoyment, while the animals that feed on these have 



theirs also, the sum of happiness by this wise provision 
is multiplied ; the same vegetable growth giving succes- 
sive support and consequent enjoyment to different races 
of animals. 

Here we have a striking instance of the falsity of 
first appearances, to which I may have occasion to refer, 
and the beautiful harmony that is unfolded by observa- 
tion and reflection. At first view, one animal appears to 
be cruelly and malevolently preying upon another animal, 
bird upon bird, fish upon fish, insect upon insect, and 
some upon all, till the whole world seems like one great 
slaughter-house, all in disorder and confusion. Investi- 
gation removes the great apparent blot upon the har- 
mony of creation, and discovers in this arrangement of 
Providence an evidence of the highest benevolence and 
wisdom, the same that are always manifest in the 
works of Deity when understood. 

I can gratefully acknowledge that I have met with 
no apparent incompatibility of anything in the works 
and dispensations of Providence with the great attributes 
of wisdom, goodness, love, and mercy, but what, as I 
dwelt in confiding and watchful patience, has been en- 
tirely removed, to the satisfaction of my own mind. 

The next attribute of Deity which I was brought to 
love, and I might say reverence and worship, was 
Truth. If I found He said yea to-day, I came to know 
He said yea for all time. If He said nay to-day, He 
said nay eternally. This pervaded all nature, in every 
branch of research. To illustrate : 

The properties of a circle, large or small, are always 
the same ; — chords equally distant from the centre are, 
in the same circle, or in equal circles, always equal ; the 
radius can be laid around on the circumference precisely 



six times; the circumferences of different circles are in 
exact proportion to their diameters; and their areas to 
the squares of the diameters. These truths, and thou- 
sands of other similar ones, are eternal, past and future. 
Man has only discovered what previously existed, though 
hidden, till revealed to his researches. 

This is further illustrated by the fact that the circum- 
ference and the area of the circle can neither of them 
be exactly measured in terms of the diameter; that is, 
when the diameter is known, the precise circumference 
or area cannot be stated, notwithstanding a near approx- 
imation to it. Such an approximation is thus stated by 
Peacock, in his Calculus, page 70 : " Some notion of 
the prodigious accuracy of the determination of De 
Lagny, extending the value of the circumference when 
the diameter is one, to one hundred and twenty-seven 
places of decimals, may be formed from the following 
hypothesis : If the diameter of the universe be a million 
of million times the distance of the sun from the earth 
(which is ninety-five millions of miles), and if a distance 
which is a million of million times this diameter be 
divided into parts each of which is the million of mil- 
lionth part of an inch ; if a circle be described whose 
diameter is a million of million times that distance, re- 
peated as many times as often as each of those parts of 
an inch is contained in it; then the error in the cir- 
cumference of that circle, as calculated by this approxi- 
mation, will be less than the million of millionth part 
of the million of millionth part of an inch." Yet with 
all this inconceivable nearness, the result is not the truth. 
Further labor might approach still nearer to it, but can 
never arrive at it. All this can be tested by any intel- 
ligent person. 



AVhile the length of the circumference of a circle 
cannot be computed with precision, the length of a curve 
of a cycloid, which is much more complicated, and is 
generated in the revolution of a circle by a point in 
its circumference, is precisely equivalent to four diameters 
of the generating circle. 

Also, although the area of a circle is incommensur- 
able in terms of its diameter or any other of its di- 
mensions, the area of a parabola, one of the conic sec- 
tions, and more complex than the circle, is precisely 
three-fourths of the rectangle or product of its base by 
its altitude. 

These truths are not revealed to one person and hid 
from another, but they are revealed to all, in every age, 
in the same way ; the reply of nature to every true 
inquirer is the same unvarying, intelligible, eternal 

The same thing obtains in every department of na- 
ture. Subject water to certain temperatures under similar 
circumstances, in any part of the world, and it begins 
to freeze at one temperature and to boil at another, 
always the snme. In crystallization, the primitive form 
of the same substance has precisely the same angle 
always ; so that the most certain method of distinguish- 
ing some substances is by measuring the angles with the 
goniometer, these being in the same substance invariably 
of the same dimensions, with mathematical precision. 

Place a certain amount of pure marble or pure chalk 
in dilute sulphuric acid, and a fixed amount of carbonic 
acid gas will be liberated, and a fixed amount of plaster 
of Paris or sulphate of lime will be formed, both of 
which amounts can be previously calculated with precis- 
ion from the quantity of marble or chalk used. 



Burn six grains of diamond or pure charcoal in 
sixteen grains of pure oxygen gas, and precisely twenty- 
two grains of carbonic acid gas is formed, the gas being 
the same kind of substance which was obtained from 
the marble or chalk ; and when this gas is of the same 
temperature as the oxygen gas was, it will be of pre- 
cisely the same bulk. 

It can therefore be foretold, with unerring certainty, 
what answer Nature will give to any question intelli- 
gently propounded to her. Her language cannot vary, 
because it is always truth. The needecf intelligence is to 
know what answer Nature has once given to the question. 

Every branch of knowledge adds its weight of testi- 
mony to the wisdom, power, and goodness of God. 
Geology gives striking evidences of wisdom and benevo- 
lent design in the gradual preparation of the earth for 
the habitation of sentient existences through countless 
ages, and its adaptation to the residence of man, not 
only as it respects his conveniences and comforts, but 
the development of his physical energies, and his 
intellectual, moral, and religious capacities. 

The records of Geology, intelligibly written upon tab- 
lets of rock by Deity, conclusively inform the intelligent 
reader that the time since the earth was inhabited by 
man, compared with the whole period of its existence 
is less than an hour to a thousand years. The race of 
man is very young, compared with the time this residence 
was being prepared for him, and one who has full confi- 
dence in the ability of Deity to accomplish all His 
gracious designs, will feel no fear that man will be able 
to frustrate these ; nor will such persons be discouraged 
by witnessing conduct comparable to the convulsions 
which our earth has experienced while it was being 



prepared for its present habitable state, which preparation 
is in some parts of the globe still going steadily on, and 
the process gradually tending to improvement and ame- 
lioration. Inasmuch ss unmistakable evidence exists 
that those great convulsions of the earth, by which whole 
continents were raised, the rocks melted and contorted, 
when lava flowed in great streams and buried large 
tracts and all that was upon their surface, filled up river 
beds and formed lakes, when immense tracts of land sunk 
in one place and were raised in another, till Plato and 
Beattie could say* 

Earthquakes have raised to Heaven the lowly vale ; 

And gulls the mountain's mighty mass entombed ; 

And where the Atlantic rolls, vast continents have bloomed; 

I say, inasmuch as all these were not the result of the 
blind conflicts of contending elements, but were, with 
harmonious wisdom and benevolent design, the Provi- 
dential adaptation of means to ends, in order the better 
to fit the earth for the wants and purposes of man, 
bringing within the reach of his enterprise and industry 
the coal, metals, marbles, and other rocks, which had 
been laid up in store-houses, like a good parent pro- 
viding for the future wants of his beloved child, when 
otherwise their existence would never have been known 
to him, or if known, would have been entirely beyond 
any power of his to procure them, — so these convulsions 
amongst communities of men may have had their place 
of compensating advantage and instruction in the moral 
world, under the direction and control of a wise and 
good Providence. 

The contemplation of the wisdom and benevolence 
in nature awakens my gratitude, love, and reverence for 



a Being whcse wisdom, by so astonishingly simple means, 
has made such ample provision for the production, pro- 
tection, sustenance, and enjoyment of his sentient crea- 
tures, evidencing the abounding everywhere of his wis- 
dom, goodness, love, and mercy, and inspiring a confiding 
trust in him. 

"All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
Whose body nature is, and God the soul, 
That changed through all, and yet in all the same, 
Great in the earth as in the ethereal flame, 
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees ; 
Lives through all life, extends through all extent, 
Spreads undivided, operates unspent ; 
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part ; 
As full, as perfect in a hair as heart ; 
As full, as perfect in vile man that mourns, 
As the rapt seraph that adores and burns." — Pope. 

I entertain an abiding conviction that it was the 
design of the Good Being that man should enjoy the 
faculties with which he is endowed in examining care- 
fully and reverently into the works of his Maker ; explore 
the secret recesses and mysteries of nature, and become 
an enlightened witness of the beauty, order, harmony, 
wisdom, love, kindness, goodness, and truth which every- 
where abound in God's works. This conviction rests 
upon several facts and considerations: 

First — The positive enjoyment which attends any 
well-balanced mind upon the discovery of a new truth, 
and the stimulus it imparts to a healthy industry, in 
an effort to discover others. 

Second — The first appearance of things being in- 
variably false. The earth appears to be still, and the 




sun and siars all in motion. Observation and experience 
prove that the opposite of this is the truth, — the earth 
is in motion, and the sun and stars * relatively still. 

Xow, it cannot be supposed that the Good Being 
would thus present to his children a false appearance 
first, without a kind and benevolent design therein to 
invite investigation, and the exercise of those faculties, 
the legitimate use of which renders him a wiser, a better, 
and a happier being. 

Many as are the evidences of wisdom and benevo- 
lent design in the world of dead matter, as it is called, 
they are much the most numerous and striking in the 
organic world of both the vegetable and animal king- 
doms. The structural arrangement and functions of the 
different parts all excite wonder and reverence in a 
healthy and intelligent mind, and these intensify with 
every advancement in the knowledge of them. I leave 
out the marvels of growth and development themselves, 
as wholly beyond comprehension, and shall only refer to 
some special points of interest and instruction, — taking 
Indian corn as an illustration : 

From every point of the growing cob, on which a 
grain of corn is to set, a tubular fibre of silk begins to 
grow close along the side of the cob to the e*nd of the 
husk, where all these fibres of silk unite, there being 
just as many fibres in the whole number as there are to 
be grains of corn on that ear. Then, some pollen from 
the tassel must fall on every fibre of the silk, be ab- 
sorbed by it, and conveyed through its tubular structure, 
to the point at which the silk began to grow, otherwise 
there will be no grain at that place. The pollen need 
not come from the particular stalk upon which the ear 
is growing : that from a neighboring stalk will answer 



the purpose just as well. Experience has proved that 
it is best to plant Indian corn in a body of adjacent 
hills, in order that the atmosphere may become filled 
with the floating particles of pollen, the continual fall- 
ing of which deposits some on every fibre of the silk, 
thus fertilizing it ; whereas, where a single stalk exists, 
the wind may blow the pollen away, so that but few 
fibres of the silk will become impregnated, and conse- 
quently but few grains will become perfected in the ear. 
Xow, the point is, what causes the silk to begin to grow 
in a tubular fibre at that point, and continue its growth 
to the end of the ear, and when it has received the 
pollen, conduct it back to the point at which the growth 
of the fibre commenced — all unerringly and everlastingly 
the same? 

Again, when there comes a storm about earing time 
and blows the corn down, it will be found in a little 
while that growths are putting out at different points 
some distance above the root, and on the side of the 
stalk toward the ground, growing longer and longer 
downwards, till they reach the earth, where they fix 
themselves firmly, and then lengthen out, thus pushing 
the stalk up, raising the ear into the air and light, 
and favoring its maturing. What wonderful wisdom 
and design ! 

The interesting inquiry is, what makes it thus put 
out these stays just at those points, and then, when 
fixed on the earth, lengthen them, to push up the stalk, 
and this over the whole field, with all the skill and 
efficiency which the most ingenious workman could devise 
with his attention confined to a single stalk ? Inquiry 
might proceed on and on interminably. 



"All we behold is miracle ; but seen 
So duly, all is miracle in vain." 

Some persons attempt to explain all these wonderful 
phenomena and processes in the animal and vegetable 
kingdoms by attributing them to the obedience of the 
particles of matter to Law — the "Law of Matter" — 
" Law of Life " — " Law of Development" — " Vital or 
Organic Law." But matter possesses in itself no power 
to obey a law. Xothing can obey a law in such sense 
which has not the power to disobey it. Matter can not 
work intelligent obedience and design such as are mani- 
fested in those operations. Obedience is active and posi- 
tive compliance with what is required. Hence, with the 
existence of power to obey must necessarily co-exist 
power to disobey. No such power is possessed by matter 
in any form, whether organic or inorganic, nor is it 
capable of receiving and retaining it. It is wholly 
passive under that great controlling Power and Intelli- 
gence which created, regulates, and sustains all things, 
and is the life of all that lives and the mover of 
all that moves. No adequate agency, other than the 
immediate and continued action of the First Great Cause 
of all things, can be assigned for the exercise, control, 
and direction of such varied, important, unerring, benevo- 
lent, and wise movements and processes as exist through- 
out the whole range of vegetable and animal economy. 

" Some say that in the origin of things, 
When all creation started into birth, 
The infant elements received a law 
From which they swerve not since. That under force 
Of that controlling ordinance they move, 
And need not His immediate hand, who first 
Prescribed their course, to regulate it now. 



But how should matter occupy a charge, 

Dull as it is, and satisfy a law 

So vast in its demands, unless impelled 

To ceaseless service by a ceaseless force, 

And under pressure of some conscious cause? 

The Lord of all, Himself through all diffused, 

Sustains, and is the Life of all that lives. 

Nature is but the name for an effect, 

Whose cause is God. He feeds the secret fire, 

By which the mighty process is maintained, 

Who sleeps not, is not weary ; in whose sight 

Slow circling ages are as transient days ; 

Whose work is without labor ; whose designs 

No flaw deforms, no difficulty thwarts ; 

And whose beneficence no charge exhausts. " — COWPEB. 

As all these varied, important, and unerring move- 
ments and processes are the result of Deity acting imme- 
diately upon matter which does not possess sensation, 
so instinct in animals is Deity acting through sentient 
matter. No other adequate cause can be assigned for 
the phenomena presented by it. It is manifestly not 
the result of education, of tradition, or of reason. It 
is certain in its adaptation of means to ends. Each 
kind of insect deposits its eggs on such plants or sub- 
stances as will nourish its young. Although man may 
deceive animals by mixing poison with their food or 
drink which disguises it, yet in a state of nature ani- 
mals never eat too much, nor partake of that which 
would injure them, although such things abundantly exist 
in their range. 

Instinct is perfect in its offices. When uninfluenced 
by human disturbances, it never runs into excess. It 
never falls short of its full requirements. It does not 
vary, it has not varied, to improve, increase, or diminish 



from generation to generation, through the entire period 
of authentic history. " The bee of modern times forms 
the cells of its hive exactly of the same shape as the 
bee of the remotest antiquity ; each species of birds 
builds its nests after the same unalterable pattern, and 
sings the same invariable melody/" — Cavallo's Philosophy. 

The keenest powers of human intelligence, aided by 
the highest and most reverential conceptions of dele- 
gated agencies, have never been able to assign any ade- 
quate cause for these multiplied and complicated in- 
stincts, save the immediate action of Deity through or 
upon sentient matter. 

As all his operations are the simplest possible adap- 
tation of means to ends, and " with Him is one eternal 
now," He supplies only the present felt want of animals, 
like the " daily bread " to the hungry, obedient soul, with- 
out imparting to them any foreknowledge of results or 
consequences. The bee when forming its cell, or the 
bird ,when building its nest or sitting on its egg, is 
only gratifying thereby a felt present want, and possesses 
no more object or design in such processes than the 
pea-fowl, when eating its food, has a design to paint it- 
self with those bright figures of unequalled regularity 
and beauty on the ends of its long feathers. We see 
the same principle manifest in children ; they eat in 
order to supply a . present felt want, and not in order to 
live or to grow, or to become strong or useful, or with 
any ulterior object whatever. 

The bee forms its cell to gratify a want with which 
Deity impresses it, and which can in no other way be grat- 
ified. The bird feels an unrest from the same source, 
which cannot be removed except by certain actions which 
result in gathering suitable materials and placing them in 



a position to form its nest. It sits on its eggs, and can- 
not feel at rest away from them for any length of time, 
until the peeping of the young bird gives it a feeling 
of liberty to withdraw. Then a round of new occupa- 
tions commences, all induced by corresponding influences. 

The newly -born lamb feels a want which leads to 
activity and motion, and moves about its dam uneasy 
and restless, but without any design or knowledge of 
what it is searching for, until it finds its natural food, 
when soon its want is supplied, and it is at rest for a 

A belief has long attended my mind that all these 
processes, and many others of a similar character called 
instinct, are the result of the immediate impress of 
Deity, without any prospective object, design, or result 
being entertained by the recipient of the impression. 
This is all they require for their reproduction, comfort, 
and self-preservation. 

Hence, animals are not furnished with a capacity to 
receive more extended impressions. When the sports- 
man's gun is aimed at a doe, whose fawns, which are 
dependent on her for sustenance, are playing around her, 
she possesses no capacity by which she could be im- 
pressed with a sense of the existing danger ; her sight 
and hearing, which are wisely given her for this purpose, 
and are ordinarily sufficient, entirely failing her now, 
through the superiority of the powers of reason arrayed 
against her. This is all in wisdom. Compensations for 
this want of capacity are more than counter-balancing. 

No impression can be interpreted or revelation made 
to any sentient existence of a more advanced intelli- 
gence, or a higher and purer spiritual character, than 
corresponds with the capacity or endowment possessed by 



the recipient, to interpret them. Hence the higher, 
purer, and more intelligent the recipient of an impres- 
sion or revelation may be, the more pure, expanded, ele- 
vated, and divine will the interpretation be which he 
will be able to give. 

Beasts and birds in their wild or natural state are 
always shown by the Good Being, through what is 
called instinct, what will nourish and what will prove 
injurious to them ; so that while those animals of which 
man has the government, and to which he measures out 
and distributes their food, will frequently eat too much, 
so as to cause injury or death, this is not the case in a 
state of nature, when left entirely to instinct, or the 
guidance of Deity. The important and instructive infer- 
ence from this is, that if man were as obedient, and his 
will as entirely given up to conform to the Divine will 
and teachings, as the fowls of the air and the beasts 
of the field, there can be no question that he would 
be guided and cared for with at least equal certainty 
and security. The attentive, humble, dependent, and 
faithful soul will always be shown the nature of anything 
proposed or presented to it, either outwardly or inwardly, 
whether in doctrines, by the imagination, or the cogita- 
tions of the mind. If it is suitable and proper to 
nourish and strengthen the spiritual nature, the Good 
Being, always present, in His love and mercy will in- 
stantly make this manifest, telling it, in the language 
of impression, " Partake of this, it will nourish thee ;" 
whereas, if it is hurtful, He will say with equal clear- 
ness, " Let it alone, it will be injurious to thee." 



"How are thy servants blessed, O Lord ! 
How sure is their defence ! 
Eternal Wisdom is their Guide, 
Their help, Omnipotence !" 

If God is so immediately present, directing the 
growth of the plants of the fields, and most wonder- 
fully and bountifully providing for and protecting the 
insects, birds, and beasts, and every sentient being of 
the lower animals, how much more will He be present 
with, guide, protect, bless, and sustain, in life and in 
death, His humble, devoted, dependent, and obedient 
children, the world over ! Of this, for myself, I entertain 
no fear whatever, if only I can maintain the requisite 
humble, obedient condition. Then, as with migratory 
birds, it is my full belief that 

"He who from zone to zone 
Guides through the pathless sky ' their ' certain flight, 
In the long way that I must tread alone, 
Will lead my steps aright." 

All the foregoing facts and considerations become, 
when incorporated as they are in my constitution, the 
foundation for a true and substantial faith in God and 
His providence. We cannot have faith at will ; there must 
be a basis for it. It is a truth, that " by grace are we 
saved; through faith, and that not of ourselves, — it is the 
gift of God." But the gift of faith must harmonize 
with our consciousness, or we cannot receive it. These 
facts and considerations, manifesting His love, mercy, 
kindness, and care over everything, and all sentient exist- 
ence, give us ground for faith to believe He will do 
as much for us, and that we will be able to receive His 
saving grace, which consists of a knowledge of His will, 



an injunction to obey it, and ability to perform it. Here 
is the whole matter: Obedience to the manifested will of 
God. K The grace of God which bringeth salvation, hath 
appeared unto all men, teaching them that, denying un- 
godliness and the world's lusts, they should live soberly, 
righteously, and godly in this present world." All this 
beautifully harmonizes. This saving grace is the mani- 
fest imparting of a clear knowledge of the will of God, 
accompanied by an injunction to obey it, and an ability 
to fulfill all its requirements. 

Nevertheless, no one will experience the benefits of 
this saving grace, or know salvation, who does not com- 
ply with his part by strict watchfulness, and yielding 
faithful obedience to every manifested duty. 

I have noted these things as they have presented 
while writing, and as they and a vast variety of corre- 
sponding beliefs exist abidingly in my consciousness, con- 
stituting a part of myself as an accountable being, it 
would be impossible that I could be without them and 
be myself. 

The impress arising from the facts and considerations 
of the immediate presence of God in everything, of His 
infinite power, wisdom, love, mercy, truth, and justice, and 
the evidence of the exercise of these attributes where- 
ever they are required, — first in inorganic matter, caus- 
ing it to assume all the variations adapting it to His 
multiplied purposes, and the most wise and benevolent 
ends ; then in the vegetable kingdom, where there are 
stronger and higher, evidences of all these ; and still 
stronger and higher in the animal, — becomes in me the 
foundation of an unshaken faith that He is equally as 
kind, to say the least, to His last, highest, and noblest 
work, man ; anrj that He will guide and care for him, 



for the fulfillment of all the purposes of his being, as 
simply, as unceasingly, and as perfectly as he does any 
other animals, on the simple condition of man's being 
obedient to what is manifested to him. 

11 God marks the bounds which Winter may not pass, 
And blunts his pointed fury ; in its case, 
Eusset and rude, folds up the tender germ, 
Uninjured, with inimitable art ; 
And ere one flowery season fades and dies, 
Designs the blooming wonders of the next. 
From dearth to plenty, and from death to life, 
Is Nature's progress, when she lectures man 
In heavenly truth ; evincing as she makes 
The grand transition, that there lives and works 
A soul in all things, and that Soul is God. 
Happy, who walks with Him ! Whom what he finds 
Of flavor or of scent in fruit or flower, 
Or what he views of beautiful or grand 
In Nature, from the broad majestic oak 
To the green blade that twinkles in the sun, 
Prompts with remembrance of a present God. 
His presence, who made all so fair, perceived, 
Makes all still fairer. As with Him no scene 
Is dreary, so with Him all seasons please." — Cowper. 

Man being endowed with a higher capacity, he is 
capable of a higher inspiration and revelation, — that 
is, of recognizing and giving a more elevated and more 
Divine interpretation to the spiritual impressions made 
upon his consciousness; and as he is faithfully obedient 
to these manifestations, his spiritual conceptions become 
more and more quickened and pure, till he becomes 
able to comprehend the whole mind and will of God 
concerning him, and to be clothed with (or led "by) the 
Spirit of God. Everything needful for him to know is 
clearly manifested to him. 



From the wisdom, justice, and goodness of God, it 
is ineontrovertibly deduced, and all experience confirms 
the truth, that every duty required of man is made 
clearly manifest to him through his consciousness, by 
the Light of God, or Spirit of Truth, as he is watch- 
ful and faithful ; and this manifestation is always ac- 
companied by ability to fulfil every requisition. In what 
particular ivay this ability may be furnished, is a matter 
of no consideration whatever. The fact of its exist- 
ence is the great point. It is a " good gift," and 
we therefore know it comes from God, the alone Source 
of Good ; and we are called upon by gratitude to give 
Him the glory, honor, and thanks, which are His due. 

The Scriptures are full of testimony to the truth of 
this great point, although sometimes in figurative lan- 
guage. It was preached to Adam before he transgressed, 
and repeated to Cain, and to every intelligent mem- 
ber of the human family to the present day. "It is 
shown unto thee, O man, what is good ; and what doth 
the Lord thy God require of thee, but to do justly, 
to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?" 
" Thou wilt keep that man in perfect peace whose heart 
is stayed on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee. 1 ' 

The whole of the incomparable Sermon on the Mount 
recognizes and sustains the same glorious truth. It is 

Much, however, as I love and value the Scriptures, 
and great as has been, and still is, the comfort I derive 
from them, any portion or interpretation of them which 
does not harmonize with this reverential consciousness 
of Deity and His attributes, which is impressed, as I 
believe, by God Himself upon my spiritual being, is of 
no moment, or value, or consideration to me whatever. 



I see portrayed in the Scriptures, as the experience of 
holy men of old, and particularly of the blessed Jesus, 
evidences of the truth of the highest convictions or 
conceptions, which have been revealed to my conscious- 
ness, in corresponding truths and convictions there re- 
corded. The other • parts I leave as not needed by me, 
and giving me no concern whatever. This I regard 
as fulfilling the wise and comprehensive injunction of 
George Fox, to "mind the Light." 

Every appetite, desire, affection, and capacity for en- 
joyment with which we are endowed, is good in itself — 
is a good gift of a wise Providence; but it requires to 
be kept under the regulating and restraining influence 
of the same wise and good Providence, shown us by the 
illuminations of His Spirit. The possession of any fac- 
ulty or talent is God's permission to use it ; but always 
in harmony with his requirements. 

He must be held pre-eminent in all things. His will 
must be our delight. The heart must be kept watchfully 
devoted to Him. His language, which must be obeyed 
in order to know peace, is, to every one, "My son, or 
my daughter, give me thy heart." With obedience to 
this, a harmonious condition of consciousness is constantly 
maintained, which is the " peace " that attends " the work 
of righteousness." In watchful attention to this con- 
sciousness is the voice heard, saying, " This is the way, 
walk thou in it" when we turn to the right hand or 
when we would turn to the left. 

Y^ihen any gratification becomes too engrossing, so as 
to interfere with other duties, injure the health or use- 
fulness, or disturb the harmonious condition of our con- 
sciousness in any manner, it should be immediately 
relinquished; and if we heed our consciousness, and it 



is in a healthy condition, we shall always find that an 
intelligent demand for this relinquishment is there made. 

Man will be preserved, not only from all sin, but 
from all evil, as Noah and Lot were ; that is, from 
everything which would not be best for him, or in accord- 
ance with the Divine will and purposes in regard to him, 
spiritually and physically ; for, in a state of obedience, 
being endowed with the capacity of a sensitive, enlight- 
ened consciousness, a disturbance would exist, and be 
immediately perceived in every condition or position 
which was not in harmony with the Divine mind, or in 
any manner not safe and best for him ; and he would 
be favored not to know peace until in a place of safety. 
Thus is the arm of the Almighty always round about 
them that love Him, and who put their trust in Him ; 
they are always in His keeping, and always safe. To 
Him and to His justice, goodness, love, and mercy I 
am favored to feel perfectly willing to trust myself — my 
all — in life and death. 

One other subject presents, which has been partially 
touched upon, but I will explain my meaning more 

A religion is needed among men, in which they can 
have a basis for their faith. They manifestly are becom- 
ing more and more di.-satisfied with an educational, tra- 
ditional, or scriptural faith, which is all that is proposed 
to them. It does not and cannot satisfy an enlightened 
soul. Neither can we have faith at will, or of ourselves ; 
it is the gift of God; and He always bestows it in* har- 
mony with His nature and with existing realities. He 
does not inspire us with a faith which positively contra- 
dicts our reason, such as to believe we are somewhere 
else than where we know we are. It is impossible. 



True religion must be simple ; it must be plain, reason- 
able, and it must admit of being tested by consciousness 
as a basis of true faith. In all other departments in 
which belief is required, experimental evidence is attaina- 
ble by enlightened research, to attest its truth wherever 
any doubt may exist ; and certainly this cannot be less 
the case in the highest of all concernments, those which 
affect the welfare and eternal interests of the soul. 

Spiritual influences and instincts are no less realities 
and powers than any which come under the cognizance 
of the external senses. Xo force is superior to spirit- 
force. All the great powers in the universe, producing 
the great round of mighty influences, since their Author 
and Controller is a spirit, are spirit in action or spirit 
forces. The Spirit of God is a power, and all his attri- 
butes are spirit-forces, the full and vast efficiency of which 
few (comparatively) know, because few believe, for want 
of a living faith which possesses a true foundation. 

Nothing is known to us by its abstract, inherent na- 
ture. Matter is known by its properties alone ; its inhe- 
rent or abstract nature is wholly concealed. So it is 
with attraction. The same is true of heat, light, elec- 
tricity, magnetism, — everything with which we are ac- 
quainted; they are known only by their properties, 
qualities, capacities of influencing and being influenced, 
and affecting those senses through which we hold com- 
munication with the external world, thus revealing them- 
selves to us. 

Speaking with deep heartfelt reverence, the corre- 
sponding fact exists in relation to Deity. He is known 
to us only by His attributes. But then we reverence, 
love, and adore Him as the embodiment of these at- 
tributes — the Giver of all good. He reveals Himself 



through these attributes by impressing them upon the 
soul, thereby imparting to it their nature. 

As an instance : He imparts the impress of truth to 
the soul, which brings it into a knowledge of truth, and 
of course so far to know God ; and with this knowledge 
of truth He imparts also an intelligent admonition to 
obey all its requirements, or to act in harmony with its 
nature, at the same time affording requisite ability to 
obey the injunction. 

Through willing obedience to these manifestations, 
the spiritual perceptions become more and more refined 
and acute ; the field widens in which the ramifications 
of the principle of truth extend its influence, through 
the corresponding increased delicacy of the sensitiveness 
of the Divine perceptions in the soul, until, so far as it 
respects truth, it approaches nearer and nearer the Di- 
vine nature. This obedience to truth, through the power 
which accompanies its impress and is thus made known 
to the soul, saves it from all departure from it, and 
from all the consequences which flow from every form 
of a departure ; hence such soul has experienced true 
salvation, and knows the power and grace of God 
whereby it was saved. 

The same saving power is a redeeming power, so 
that when one who has departed from the government 
of truth comes humbly and faithfully to yield obedience 
to its influence upon his soul in all things, he is brought 
back again into the Divine harmony and favor; he has 
thus experienced redemption from sin through the grace 
and power of God, and knows salvation, and that his 
Saviour and Redeemer liveth, — the wisdom of God 
and the power of God. 

A person whose soul is thus circumstanced living up 



humbly, reverently, and faithfully, clay by day, to his 
highest conceptions of the requirements of all those at- 
tributes, or to the most pure and elevated interpreta- 
tion which he can give to the impressions of them upon 
his consciousness, is clothed with or governed by the 
attributes of God; he is a manifestation of God, or 
"God manifest' in man; he is "led by the Spirit of 
God ;" he is " a son of God." 

All this is to be learned, experienced, and practiced 
within by careful and constant attention to our indi- 
vidual consciousness, which has its laws of disturbances 
and influences, and its capacities for discipline, regulation, 
advancement, and purification. It is to this great field 
of labor we must look for spiritual and religious ad- 
vancement in the human family. And this, as I under- 
stand it, is the doctrine of Friends, or true Quakerism, 
all being embraced in the comprehensive injunction of 
George Fox, " Mind the Light ;" or the still more con- 
cise one of the blessed Jesus, " Watch." 

I shall close with the solemn prayer of Thomas a 
Kempis, which I can truly say contains the sincere and 
earnest cravings of my heart also. "Oh God! who art 
the truth ! make me one with Thee in everlasting 
love ! I am oft-times weary of reading, and weary of 
hearing (and weary of writing). In Thee alone is the 
sum of my desire. Let every teacher be silent ! Let 
the whole creation be dumb before Thee ; and do Thou 
only speak unto my soul!" 





Sandy Spring, Md., 2d Mo. 18th, 187 0. 

Dear Friend : — * * * * The article thou lately 
enclosed, headed the "Radical Club," etc., from the "Spring- 
field Republican." suggested ideas worthy of careful exami- 
nation and reflection. The editor of the Anti-Slavery Stan- 
dard gives a definition of "Quakerism." with which I fully 
accord. It is beautiful and true : 

"The distinctive doctrine of Quakerism," he says, "is 
the immediate teaching of the Holy Spirit in the human 
soul." * * Added years have only tended to 

strengthen my faith in this fundamental doctrine which dis- 
tinguishes Quakerism, and my admiration for the more im- 
portant features of its historical record. 

The estimate of human nature which the doctrine of 
the "Inner Light" necessitates is an exalted one. Logically 
it subordinates everything else. 

The witness within sits in judgment upon every mes- 
sage, verbal or written, and upon every thought and action 
as well. There is n- room left for a Bible of absolute authority; 
none for the functions of an exclusive Mediator and Savior. All 
are children of the Father and joint heirs in His divinely 
human household. 

The practical requirements of this fundamental doctrine 
of Quakerism are. to "mind the Light," that is, to be 
obedient to its teachings. — to live up, faithfully day by day, 
in all our intercourse with our fellow creatures, to the highest 
convictions of right and duty which are manifested to our watch- 
ful consciousness. It recognizes the fatherhood of God and 
the brotherhood of all men. and demands the faithful ful- 
fillment of all the varied filial and fraternal obligations which 
this recognition imposes. No room exists in it for secta- 
rianism, or prejudice against race, class, or caste. As a rule 
of practical life it is full and complete. Nothing can rise 
above it, — nothing go beyond it. As has been said of it, 
"It is as high as the heavens and as holy as the Lord." 



It is adapted to all mankind, and to every condition of mind 
and of life, — high and low, rich and poor, strong and weak, 
learned and unlearned, — the duty of each individual being 
simply, as has been already said, to live up, day by day, to 
Ihe highest convictions of right and duty which are revealed 
to the watchful consciousness. 

Every such revelation of duty is necessarily accompanied 
by ability to perform it ; for, God being just, He must give 
the requisite power to perform every requirement He makes 
of His creatures. 

This is the doctrine of Quakerism ; not as anything 
peculiar to its purposes, but as the privilege of all mankind. 
George Fox founded no sect. His platform he regarded (as 
it is) sufficiently broad and strong to hold and support the 
whole human family. And so does every true Quaker. 

" The God-Given Power to see or receive a Truth, 
is God's Command to Impart it." 

I regard all truth as coming from God, hence eter- 
nal, universal, always good, and from its nature inca- 
pable, when rightly used, of being anything but good, 
to any person, in any place, or at any period. 

There is, and can be, no new truth. Every truth, 
however recently discovered, has existed through all 
time. Every mathematical or philosophical principle, 
every property of the triangle, the circle, or material 
bodies, is eternal. No matter when or by whom it was 
discovered, it pre-existed in the Divine mind and is the 
embodiment of a Divine thought. The mind of the 
discoverer is brought in harmony with, and to under- 
stand the Divine mind, so far as to be able to receive 
this impress or revelation from it. 

Hence, all that the mathematician or philosopher can 



do, is to discover what previously exUted, although un- 
known. When Dr. Herschel and Professor Leverrier 
each discovered a " new planet " as it was termed, to 
which the names of Uranus and Xeptune were applied, 
they were only favored to see what had existed from 
the time of the creation. The discovery was new, not 
the object discovered. So of each principle and property 
in every department of physical science. 

The same I believe to be true in relation to spiritual 
truths, which are as much realities as physical truths. 
They are from the same eternal source, and communi- 
cated in like manner, whenever a mind or soul is pre- 
pared — that is, sufficiently enlightened, expanded, and 
purified — to see or receive them. And every such reve- 
lation, spiritual or physical, is for good to mankind — is 
a blessing. Witness the happy influences of the physi- 
cal discoveries within a century past, upon the com- 
forts, conveniences, and interests of humanity ; the 
sewing - machines, mowing and reaping machines, and 
various other labor - performing inventions, that so expe- 
dite operations in the houshold and upon the farm, and 
lessen muscular exertion ; also the truths or principles 
upon which these rest, as well as ether God -given 
ministers to man — the laws governing steam, so as to 
adapt it to the supply of so great a variety of our wants 
and greatly to lengthen our lives, if measured by what 
we are enabled to perform ; the sunlight to paint the 
pictures of our absent friends, and scenery, and objects 
of interest in foreign lands, and thus "bring a distant 
country into ours," with a reliability that no human 
delineation can equal ; and the same agent in spectrum 
analysis, rendering such great aid in understanding the 
composition of terrestrial substances, and giving a better 


acquaintance than was previously possessed with regard 
to many bodies in the planetary and stellar regions ; 
the truths or laws of electricity and magnetism, in their 
application to that wonder, the telegraph, to electro- 
typing, and many other valuable and labor - performing 
processes ; all of which, and many others, may be re- 
garded, as far as their general practical benefits are 
concerned, as the gifts of the last one hundred years. 

But unquestionably, these laws and principles have 
all existed from the epoch of creation. Then whence 
come they into use? And why at this time? 

I have just now called these truths or discoveries 
" God - given ministers," for they are certainly " good 
gifts," and minister greatly to man's convenience and 
comfort, and we have the assurance that " every good 
and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down 
from the Father of lights, with whom there is no vari- 
ableness, neither shadow of turning," He "being the 
same yesterday, to-day, and forever." 

Now, as we have the assurance of the Apostle, which 
we all believe, that God does not change, and these " good 
gifts," though existing from the period of the crea- 
tion, have been withheld, or rather not imparted to His 
children, beneficent as they would have been, till within 
the last one hundred years, and far the greater num- 
ber of them, and the most valuable, till within the last 
half century, there must exist some cause for this ; some- 
thing must have changed. I think it is man. There 
has been a progress in humanity. So far from man 
being a fallen being, and his highest condition past, so 
that we must look back for the most elevated and favored 
types of humanity, the human family has been continu- 
ally advancing, taken altogether, from the first creation, 



so that man has come to occupy a higher plane than ever 
before. He has come nearer to God, and been enabled 
to partake more of His image, both in the creative 
faculty, so to call it, and in the diffusion of blessings to 
his fellow - creatures, so as to be capable of apprehend- 
ing, receiving, and propagating the great truths that 
have long been waiting to burst forth in a revelation 
to bless mankind, as soon as a mind should be prepared 
to receive it. 

But this preparation must be by man. The means 
are furnished him, but he must industriously use them. 
He must diligently put inquiries to Nature, and atten- 
tively and patiently await her answers. It is interesting 
to note how gradually all these revelations have been 
made. One person discovers a truth and makes it 
known. This raises the mind one step towards the ob- 
ject. Then the same person, or some one else, discovers 
another, and so on, until the present elevated degree 
has been attained, in all the sciences and the arts rest- 
ing upon them. This grand result has arisen from each 
discovery of a new truth, when made, being thrown into 
the common stock of knowledge, thus bringing up all 
well - informed and thinking minds to that level, and 
preparing them for further advances. 

Not that the highest possible degree, or one near it, 
is yet attained; great blessings no doubt are still in 
the Divine treasury waiting till some one is sufficiently 
advanced or elevated to receive them, and add them to 
the already long list of "good gifts' , from above. 

Now let it be observed emphatically that these reve- 
lations, as I term them, or the knowledge of these 
truths or laws that have proved of such incalculable 
benefit to man, have not been made to or obtained by the 



idle and the thoughtless, but they are the reward of the 
industrious, patient, devoted worker, the close observer, 
the man who questions nature with an unshaken confi- 
dence in the uniformity of her laws, which are the 
laws of God, and partake of His unchangeableness, 
wisdom, and goodness. 

All this, in my confident belief, is equally true of 
spiritual realities and the revelations of spiritual truths. 
Every God-given truth is good. 

These truths make up the heart or condition of hu- 
manity. Every added one expands the mind or soul, 
and increases its enlightenment. Their being successively 
imparted is interesting evidence of the progress of hu- 
manity. They are revealed to the industrious and de- 
voted seeker into the depths of his spiritual nature, 
watchfully observing the changes in his moral conscious- 
ness, inquiring into the causes by which these changes 
are produced, and by the aid of that light which is 
freely furnished to all, discovering spiritual truths never 
before revealed. By this means he becomes deeply in- 
structed in spiritual things, learns the nature and power 
of spiritual influences and forces, and that they are as 
real and as invariable as those governing material 
bodies. When not restrained by considerations of policy 
arising from society organizations, there is the same 
noble impulse to impart what has been discovered, — to 
share with others the treasure that has been found, and 
place it in the common stock of knowledge. Such de- 
voted workers were the venerated George Fox, Fenelon, 
Luther, Calvin, Wesley, and no doubt many others. 
George Fox, in the fields and woods, in retirement, — 
Newton in his observatory, — Luther and Calvin and 
Wesley in places of silent meditation, — Davy in his 



laboratory, — and others who have made discoveries in 
their respective provinces of research, were all industri- 
ously and devotedly engaged in studying those laws es- 
tablished by Deity, through which man may acquire a 
higher and fuller knowledge of His works, spiritual and 
physical, and of Him, and become a more enlarged re- 
cipient of His bounties and blessings. 

A succession of these laborers, astronomers, chemists, 
and other physicists, and also of the explorers and ex- 
pounders of spiritual truths, has been steadily maintained, 
but their labors have been attended with very different 

In every department of science, whose votaries make 
known every discovery, or what is believed to be such, 
as soon as it is made, there has been a great and steady 
advance, — an advance proportioned to the industry, de- 
votedness, and skill with which they were pursued. One 
discovery prepared the way for another. Recognizing 
the unvariableness of the Great Father and of His laws, 
that He was no respecter of persons, had no favorites, 
but that He rewarded humble and thoughtfully directed 
industry and research alike in all, it was seen that what 
one man had done, others could do by the same means, 
and by using the additional knowledge his industry had 
gained, other laborers in the same field could even sur- 
pass. This important fact was continually verified in 
their experience, and herein lies the source of the suc- 
cessive and important discoveries and developments in 
the last hundred years, in every department of scientific 

In the spiritual department, if so it may be termed, 
the case has been very different. The field has been 
largely occupied, but the advance, if whatever change 



has been produced could be called an advance, has been 
comparatively very slow. For this difference there must 
be some cause, and this cause must be with man, not 
God. He would assuredly reveal truths connected with 
man's higher life, and eternal interests, as freely and 
fully as He has revealed those in the other departments 
which He has enabled man to explore. 

The hindering cause or causes appear very clear to 
me, and I feel free to express my views in regard to them. 
They are principally two. Among the generality of the 
people from whom it would be expected such investi- 
gations and advancement would be made, a conviction 
has obtained that all revelation has ceased ; that the whole 
mind and will of God, respecting man, is contained in 
the Bible ; that every spiritual discovery or illumination 
must conform to what is therein recorded, thus regard- 
ing any advance as unhoped for and impossible ; and 
that the only means of progress in a knowledge of 
spiritual truths is to study this bock. Oh ! if only all 
had been led to study the book of their own lives and 
experiences, the varying influences of their moral con- 
sciousness, with the same zeal and industry that they 
have studied the Bible (for I believe them honest), what 
progress would they have made in the knowledge of 
spiritual realities ! — even greater and of incomparably 
more benefit to man than has been made in any de- 
partment of physical science. 

With Friends, who nobly maintain that God is un- 
changeable, and that consequently the blessing of His 
immediate revelation to man has not ceased, its benefits 
are yet not fully realized, from the belief which too 
generally prevails, that it was, in its fullness, made to 
George Fox, William Penn, and other early Friends, 



and that nothing therefore can be in advance of what 
was made known to and recorded by them, to which all 
doctrines and beliefs of members of the Society are 
expected to conform. 

The second impediment is a prevailing belief that a 
knowledge of spiritual truths is not obtained through 
devotedness, inquiry, and observation directed to the in- 
fluences of our consciousness, but that God reveals these 
truths not naturally, but supernaturally to a favored few ; 
and also, that there must be great discrimination when 
and to whom these truths are imparted ; so that those 
who have been enabled to see more advanced and ele- 
vated truths, are restrained from disseminating them, 
lest they should thereby disturb the harmony of the 
religious organization of which they are members. In 
this respect, society organization, though possessed of so 
many advantages, has been as a bond or restraint, pre- 
venting its development and growth. 

Moreover, no two religious societies agree in what 
they maintain to be the fundamental doctrines essential 
to the soul's salvation, and ignoring reason and practical 
evidence, because it is feared they will conflict with 
supernatural revelation and some other received doctrines, 
no means are left by which to arrive at certainty in 
their conclusions on these most important subjects. In 
Astronomy, Chemistry, Mathematics, and all the sciences, 
certainty prevails; but in spiritual realities, the most 
important of all, there are uncertainty and mystery, 
bigotry and superstition. 

Now with these views, which I honestly entertain, it 
will be seen why I regard the "God-given power to see 
or receive a truth, to be God's command to communi- 
cate it," believing it to be for the benefit of the race, 



and not of the individual alone; and that every truth 
that the Father reveals is a universal truth, and needed 
to bring up or complement the heart or mind of humanity 
to the present period in its progress. 

A great loss, in my view, has been sustained by 
our Society for want of a fuller and more honest ex- 
pression of the deepest convictions of the soul, which I 
regard as the revelations of God to that soul, with au- 
Jjiority to proclaim them. This revelation is by the 
language of impression. This language must then be 
interpreted to others, and the interpretation can only 
be as high and pure as accords with the highest con- 
ceptions of the recipient of the impression. But it is 
so much an advance in the right direction. By thus 
making it known, one of two benefits may arise. If 
erroneous, it may be corrected by more advanced minds ; 
and if true, it may correct and enlarge the opinions of 
others, and like the discoveries in science, lead to a still 
greater discovery. 

Doubts have a right place in the mental and spirit- 
ual economy. They lead to a deeper and more careful 
examination of the subjects in search of evidence to es- 
tablish the truth. An honest doubt, that one cannot 
remove, had better be expressed than withheld. 

The expression may lead to the removal, not only 
from the mind that expressed it, but from many others ; 
but if withheld, it may prey upon the soul like a 

It is my full belief that less danger may exist, if 
there is any, from the free and honest expression of the 
deepest convictions of the soul, than has arisen from 
that "withholding more than is meet, which tendeth to 
poverty." Truth is to be preferred in all things, be- 



cause it is more in harmony with man's nature than 
the error it displaces. 

The truths imparted by the Most High are uni- 
versal truths, and like His laws, are of universal appli- 
cation. With regard to special utterances, injunctions, 
encouragements, or reproofs, it may be different. Such 
truths I understand to be referred to by the blessed 
Jesus in the quotation, " I have many things to declare 
unto you, but ye cannot bear them now." These evi* 
dently were not universal truths, but something especially 
applicable to them — some deficiency to point out, reproof 
to administer, or instruction to impart, which they were 
not then able to bear. 

In the very instructive parable, when the servants 
proposed to gather the tares from among the wheat, the 
injunction was, "Nay, let them alone, lest while ye gather 
up the tares ye rcot up the wheat icith them." The plan 
of the servants, as seen from the reply, was to " root up" 
the tares. But the wise and effective way is to " root up" 
nothing, contradict nothing, but to plant and nourish the 
true seed, plant truth, propagate and cultivate truth, and 
then, in accordance with the theory of " natural selec- 
tion," that the strongest will prevail, truth, being stronger 
than all opposing principles, and possessed of greater 
vitality and power, will flourish and spread, overshadow- 
ing and causing to decay and die everything of a con- 
trary nature, till " the mountain of the Lord's house 
shall be established on the tops of the mountains, and 
exalted above the hills, and all nations shall flow into 
it ;" which mountain is truth. 



Friends in Great Britain. 

It is our privilege to draw practical instruction 
from the trials and sufferings of others, even when our 
hearts are tendered in near sympathy with the suffer- 
ers. The fact of the suffering is evidence of feeling, 
and hence of life ; and, if only it is regarded in the 
light of that " wisdom which is from above, and is 
profitable to direct" in all things, a way of relief will 
be manifested, which will lead to a higher condition 
than had been previously known. 

These reflections were awakened by reading the edi- 
torial in the "Friends' Intelligencer" of Tenth month 28th, 
and the articles in the same number, headed respec- 
tively " Hardshaw East," and " Hardshaw East Monthly 
Meeting," to which the editorial refers; and they have 
been recently revived by articles upon the same subject 
in the "British Friend" of last month (Eleventh). The 
" British Friend" states that " the protracted agitation in 
the Monthly Meeting (Hardshaw East) has at length 
culminated in the disownment of one member and the 
resignation of twelve more." The original cause of the 
disunity was entirely in relation to doctrines, and is stated 
by the " British Friend" to have been " the denial of 
the God -head of Christ, of His atoning, mediatorial 
offices, and of the Divine authority of the Scriptures." 

The person who was disowned for holding and ex- 
pressing these views, David Duncan, appears to have 
been a man of unblemished character, and to have lived 
a life of strict uprightness and integrity. In a solemn 
" protest" against his disownment, signed by over forty 
members of the Monthly Meeting that disowned him, 



and presented to that body, they state two of their 
objections to his disownment to be : 

" Because, seeing that the Society of Friends, instead 
of according the ordinary prominence to a creed, has 
ever held as its most cherished doctrine the enlighten- 
ing influence of the Spirit of God as the guide into all 
truth; and believing that our late beloved Friend ac- 
cepted this truth, and endeavored to live up to the 
measure of light received, we therefore contend that, in 
disowning him, the Monthly Meeting separated from its 
fold one of its most useful and estimable members. And 

" Because we believe that differences of opinion upon 
matters which are beyond the reach of human power 
to solve, must be allowed to remain open questions. 
Were this admitted, no harm cculd result from the calm 
discussion of religious subjects ; on the contrary, much 
good ; — whilst to attempt to stifle inquiry, by the exer- 
cise of a merely artificial authority, as in the case of 
our deeply lamented Friend, is a discredit to the cause 
of truth, and a dishonor to the profession of religion." 

The readers of the " Intelligencer" will do well to 
give these two articles of the " protest " a careful and 
studied perusal, and endeavor to enter into sympathy 
with a Monthly Meeting of Friends, against the pro- 
ceedings of which forty - four of its members thus sol- 
emnly protest, and in consequence of which proceedings, 
twelve others had previously resigned their rights ! What 
comfort in social religious worship, what power for good, 
can possibly exist in a meeting whose members are in 
such a divided and alienated condition ? I feel near and 
tender sympathy with them all, as brethren and sisters, — 
both the members of the Monthly Meeting who issued 
a testimony of disownment, and those who protest 



against the proceeding. I have no doubt all are equally 
honest in their convictions of # the duty required of them, 
and that they would all rejoice to have harmony and 
love restored amongst them on a basis which truth 
would sanction. 

To such restoration, the distress and suffering that 
must necessarily exist in such a state of alienation and 
estrangement, significantly point. How wise and com- 
forting, if they take heed to these pointings ! and what 
a blessing, if others imbibe the instruction which the 
lesson so impressively imparts ! 

If we examine the cause of this unhappy disturbance, 
we find it was an attempt to suppress inquiry ; to fetter 
the mind and conscience ; to enslave, by the authority of 
man, what God, in His infinite wisdom, love, and mercy, 
left free. Such attempt has ever been the bane of 
Christianity, and the fruitful source of persecutions, 
schisms, and separations in religious organizations. 

I repeat, in tenderness of feeling, as a historical fact, 
that the attempt to enslave the mind, and bring it under 
human authority of whatsoever kind, or however estab- 
lished, being in its nature unjust, and out of the Divine 
harmony, like the personal slavery that existed in our own 
country, is withering and hurtful to the oppressor and 
the oppressed. But the unfavorable influence is naturally 
most marked in the oppressor. He assumes the accusing 
spirit of judging a brother, and lording it over God's 
heritage, which induces spiritual decline and death ; 
whereas the oppressed, on the principle that "truth 
crushed to earth will rise again," if they are only 
favored to abide in the spirit of humility and meekness, 
have nothing to fear. They will partake of the beati- 
tudes pronounced by the blessed Jesus. 



But through the weakness of our nature, some thus 
oppressed, being conscious •they are wronged, will, under 
this feeling, be more earnest and emphatic than they 
otherwise would be in proclaiming their peculiar views, 
and maintaining what they believe to be their inherent 
rights and privileges, to their own spiritual hurt and 
the injury of the cause of truth. Such are some of the 
evils that naturally spring from an attempt to enslave 
the mind and bring it into submission to human authority. 

The cause and the unhappy influence of the disturb- 
ance being thus apparent, the remedy immediately sug- 
gests itself. This remedy is toleration — spiritual free- 
dom — liberty of conscience — the very principles our 
earliest Friends, and ail advanced advocates of truth in 
every age, contended and suffered for. Iso disadvantage 
can possibly arise from liberty of conscience — the right 
freely to think and to express the highest thoughts and 
deepest convictions of the soul, at all comparable, in their 
hurtful effects, to those which have been witnessed from 
an attempt to enslave it, because it is a God-given right. 

Any apprehensions on this point, like those enter- 
tained in regard to according to slaves their right to 
liberty, by setting them free, will never be realized. An 
act of justice can do no harm. AVhen the principle is 
yielded, all contention in regard to it ceases. All is 

We need not be afraid of " doctrines." What is 
requisite is a fuller and more perfect trust in the en- 
lightening and protecting power of God, and His unceas- 
ing watchful care over all His rational children. 

The effect of attaching paramount importance to " doc- 
trines " and " beliefs " has always been, as it ever must 
be, to " divide in Jacob and scatter in Israel." What 



is now taking place in Hardshaw East Monthly Meet- 
ing is no new thing. It is but a repetition of what 
took place among the Friends of Ireland from the same 
cause towards the close of the last century, and the dis- 
astrous consequences continued active till late in the year 
1803. This difficulty appears to have originated in dif- 
ferent views being entertained in relation to the Scriptures 
by the elders of the Monthly Meeting of Carlow, pro- 
ducing ultimately an estrangement of feeling among the 
members generally ; and a great number of disownments 
ensued of some of the most exemplary, enlightened, and 
worthy members, for different causes, among which was 
that of not rising in time of prayer. The reading of 
this deeply interesting " narrative of events " is very 
instructive and suggestive. Like causes produce like 
effects. What has been, may be again. We can there 
see of what great benefit a littla toleration would have 
been towards prominent members of the Society, of 
spotless, exemplary lives, who fully and practically be- 
lieved in the " grand fundamental doctrine of the Soci- 
ety/' "the inward principle of light and grace, which, 
if attended to, they believed to be sufficient to lead all 
in the way they should go," and yet, because they held 
different views of certain portions of Scripture, they be- 
came separated from the Society. 

Now we cannot believe at will. Belief is not a 
thing of choice, but of evidence. With sufficient evi- 
dence, belief is a matter of necessity. There is then no 
merit in belief ; no demerit in disbelief. The same evi- 
dence, on minds equally sincere and honest, will not 
necessarily bring them to the same conclusion. When 
a judge was impeached before the United States Senate, 
during General Jackson's administration, Senator Taze- 




well of Virginia, and Senator Livingston of Louisiana, 
who were of the same political party, had both been judges 
of courts, and (I think) Governors of their respective 
States, had each written upon jurisprudence, and would 
be supposed to possess minds as likely to be similarly 
influenced by the same evidence as possible, under oath, 
came to exactly opposite conclusions. One pronounced 
the judge on trial " guilty," the other " not guilty." 

This invites us to toleration in honest differences of 
opinion, where it rests solely on evidence. Hence such 
a course is eminently essential in regard to portions of 
Scripture. It is a great and very common error among 
the devoted advocates of the perfection of the present 
version of the Scriptures, that the rejection or disbelief 
of one portion necessarily involves the rejection or dis- 
credit of the whole. The good and wise Newton, to 
whom the poet Cowper, also a devoted lover of the 
Scriptures, makes this apostrophe : 

4 1 Such was thy wisdom, Newton, childlike sage! 
Sagacious reader of the works of God, 
And in His word sagacious !" 

even Newton "clearly shows that the text, L John, 
v., 7, ' For there are three that bear record in heaven, 
the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost, and these 
three are one/ was engrafted upon the Scriptures about 
the fourth century, to favor the doctrine of the Trinity." 
He adds, "For a long time the faith subsisted without 
this text, and it is rather a danger to religion than an 
advantage to make it now lean on a bruised reed. 
There cannot be a better service done to the truth than to 
purge it of things spurious." Yet the rejection of this, 
and some other portion of the Scriptures which his re- 



searches and learning showed him were not in the orig- 
inal, did not in the least degree diminish his confidence 
in, and love and veneration for, the great truths contained 
in the Bible. 

Now, these facts all point to the propriety and 
necessity of forbearance and toleration for differences of 
opinion and belief, under different degrees of experience 
and development in regard to those portions of a work 
written in "an unknown tongue " to most, many hun- 
dred years ago, and of which we have, and necessarily 
can have, no other evidence than the authority of this 
book ; and very especially when its strongest advocates, 
and those best qualified to judge, admit it contains 
errors ; and particularly when we reflect that the facts 
would be just as they are, let our beliefs in regard to them 
be what they may. Our beliefs would not affect the truth, 
nor our relation to it. We have a practical work to do, 
for which we feel and know we are responsible. This 
work is, to place ourselves in harmony with God ; to be 
obedient to the manifested will of the Creator and Sus- 
tainer of the universe, for which purpose He graciously 
furnishes us with wisdom and power, light and strength. 
Here all is centered. 

To what will this direct the mind of one who loves 
humanity, and particularly the Society of Friends? — in 
which I include all its various "branches" or "divisions," 
who, while holding the same fundamental practical doc- 
trine of the sufficiency of the enlightening influence of the 
Spirit of God to guide into all truth, and the precious 
testimonies which are the outgrowth therefrom, are yet 
kept apart by unpractical " beliefs." It points to the 
necessity of another test. It directs to a return to the 
practical test of qualification of membership with Friends, 



to the criteria given by the blessed Jesus Himself: 
" By their fruits ye shall know them." " A good tree 
cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree 
bring forth good fruit." The Apostle John bears testi- 
mony to the same point : " Let no man deceive you ; he 
that doeth righteousness is righteous" 

What plain, practical tests are these! How wise, 
efficient, and sufficient ! How easily applied ! No dan- 
ger of misunderstanding them. 

If the fruits of making " doctrines" and " beliefs " 
the tests, are invariably schisms, divisions, and aliena- 
tion among friends and brethren, and the multiplied 
disownments of persons of great worth and spotless lives, 
— as witness the trouble* referred to in Ireland, the de- 
plorable separation in this country, and the present un- 
ended difficulty and suffering at Hardshaw East, in 
Great Britain, — they always have been, and still are, of 
that tree which cannot be good. 

On the other hand, if the acts and deportment of 
a member of Friends' Society are kind, good, true, 
lovely, and pure, such member " doeth righteousness," 
and by the test is " righteous," and every way w T orthy 
of being continued a member. 

This, from the nature of man, must necessarily be 
the true test. Here permit me, in order to be under- 
stood, although it may be some repetition, briefly to state 
my convictions upon this point. 

Man was created with many animal desires, appetites, 
and propensities, all good in themselves, but tending to 
run into excess, and requiring that the garden of his 
heart should be diligently " dressed " and " kept." " God 
breathed into man the breath of life, and he became 
a living soul." This breath of life is the Spirit of God> 



which is breathed into every rational creature. God 
could only breathe forth of His own nature. He 
breathed into man the spirit of truth, justice, love, kind- 
ness, mercy, purity, and holiness, and all His commu- 
nicable attributes, w T hich are in man living powers or 
spirit forces, to regulate and restrain all the animal 
appetites, desires, and propensities, and preserve them in 
the Divine harmony. We all know what truth, love, 
and justice are, and when w T e know these, we so far 
know God. For (I speak it reverently) we can know 
God only by or through His attributes, in accordance 
with the Scripture truth, " What is to be know T n of 
God is manifest in man " — the " breath of life " that 
was and is breathed into him. Then the conscious ex- 
istence in w r hich all these blessed attributes, in infinite 
perfection, reside, and which the soul feels to be ever 
present w r ith it, is God. 

The watchful and enlightened soul feels not only 
that He is ever present, but that the welfare, safety, 
and peace of the soul depend on preserving a har- 
monious relation to Him ; and this can only be secured 
by acting in perfect obedience to all His manifestations. 
These manifestations to the soul being wisdom and 
power, light and strength, are always accompanied by 
ability to perform or fulfill all their varied require- 

Let us individually, by example and precept, urge to 
faithful, practical obedience to these blessed and pure 
principles, as the one thing essential to a holy life, and 
a child of God. 

There is no way in which we can possibly fulfill the 
requirements of justice but by the spirit of justice, or 



the requirements of love and truth but by the spirit of 
love and truth. 

And these are the gifts of God to every soul. They 
are the " grace of God which bringeth salvation," — a 
knowledge of His will, with power to obey it. 4t All have 
heard, but all have not obeyed." 

This, to my understanding, is the true doctrine of 
practical Christianity, and the primitive and fundamental 
doctrine of Friends. Friends, without any regard to 
how or why, accept the simple fact of the " light within," 
the manifestation of the will of God to the soul, with 
power to obey it. In support of this truth there is an 
abundance of Scriptural testimony. But we require no 
other evidence than our own experience furnishes. We 
know that if we diligently watch we shall see or hear, 
and if we wilL we can obey. Then are we saved from 
sin through obedience, for "sin is a transgression of the 
law," and with the obedient soul there is no transgression. 

How beautiful, how simple, how practical ! Love God ; 
love man ; recognize the fatherhood of God, and the 
brotherhood of all men. Every one knows the duty he 
owes to a father and to a brother ; and he must observe 
faithfully, day by day, the varied filial and fraternal ob- 
ligations which this recognition imposes, and these God, 
in His love and mercy, will impart ability to perform. 
He watches over us continually, with all the tenderness 
and care of a loving Father. " He works in us, both to 
will and to" do of His good pleasure." Our wills, as we 
are faithful and obedient, are merged into His will, till 
the abiding desire of the heart, in all things, is, " Thy 
will, O God, be done." 

He calls upon and assists us to wcrk up, day by 
day, to the highest convictions of right and duty which 



are revealed to our watchful consciousness. Then all is 
peace, — all is brought into the Divine harmony. 

What more can God give or we desire, than results 
from simple obedience to known duty — the voice of 
God manifested to the soul? 

Here is a platform large enough and strong enough 
not only for all the divisions into which the once united 
Society of Friends is unhappily separated, but for all 
peoples. That we may all profit by the lesson which 
the facts that have been stated so impressively teach, is 
the ardent aspiration of my heart. 

Sandy Spring, Mb., 12th Mo. 23d, 1871. 

Some Thoughts connected with the Fundamental 
Principles of Friends. 

Practical Quakerism consists in faithful obedience to 
the "still, small voice," which is the voice of God 
speaking to the soul. 

Friends do not believe that they, as a Society, pos- 
sess any privileges from the Good Father that are not 
equally tendered to all the rest of mankind on the same 
conditions. The Friends bear emphatic testimony to 
the beauty of holiness, the riches of Divine love, and 
the universality of the grace of God — this grace being 
a knowledge of his will, with a power to obey it. The 
Society of Friends has no creed. A creed is necessa- 
rily fixed, and does not admit of growth, expansion, and 
progress, which they regard as inherent* characteristics 
of humanity, by which man is distinguished from all 
other animals. 

They regard as of binding daily obligation the fun- 



damental injunction of George Fox, "Mind the Light/ 
u Hear and obey.'' M Let obedience keep pace with 
knowledge/' all meaning the same thing, which is to 
live day by day up to the highest convictions of right 
and duty that are revealed to our watchful conscious- 
ness, recognizing the fatherhood of God, and the bro- 
therhood of all men, with the filial and fraternal obli- 
gations which this recognition imposes. 

This is the simple doctrine of Friends, to which 
they invite all people. 

Friends do not ask nor desire other people to join 
their outward religious organization. This, of itself, will 
do no good. But their earnest desire is that every indi- 
vidual shall become practically obedient to the every- 
day teaching of the Spirit of God in their own hearts, 
and thus become members of the Church triumphant, 
experiencing a foretaste of heaven. 

A heart that is obedient to the Spirit of God, 
is under the government of God ; God reigns in that 
heart; and where God reigns, there is His kingdom — 
there is Heaven, and there is joy now and forever. 
"Behold the kingdom of God is within you. ,, 

It is recorded, " They shall not teach every man his 
neighbor, and every man his brother, saying, 1 Know the 
Lord / for they shall all know me, from the least of them 
to the greatest of them, saith the Lord ; I will put 
my laws into their hearts, and I will be to them a God y 
and they shall be to me a people. For I will be mer- 
ciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and their 
iniquities will I .remember no more." 

Wonderful privileges ! glorious promises ! and they 
are all " yea and amen forever ! 

These encouraging truths of Scripture harmonize 



beautifully with the highest conceptions we are capable 
of forming of the goodness, justice, love and mercy of 
God, and His fatherly care of His rational children. 

But we have other confirmation of the important 
fact, that God guides, instructs and aids His children — 
all who are willing to be guided and instructed by Him. 

According to right reason, the infinitely wise, good, 
just and omnipresent Father would not bring His help- 
less child into existence, and then, notwithstanding the 
great and important responsibilities resting upon it, leave 
it without access to a reliable guide and helper in every 
case of necessity and emergency. When Queen Victoria, 
the present good sovereign of England, permitted her 
oldest son, heir to the throne, to visit this country, she 
selected the wisest statesman and the best physician of 
her kingdom to accompany him, with earnest commands 
and instructions to take the best possible care, in every 
respect, of her beloved child. 

Could the sovereign of the whole world, the eternal 
and universal Father, the loving and tender parent, do 
less for every child He setfds forth on the journey of 
life, through its varied perplexities and dangers, than 
this mother did for her son? 

Now, a perfect guide, such as is needed in life, must 
be able to take in a view of the whole journey, not only 
the past and present, but the future. This cannot be man. 
It cannot be a book or books. Such guide can only be 
the Omniscient God. 

That man is favored with the privilege of having 
such a guide — " the light within " — accords with the 
experience of the wise and good of all ages, as well 
as with the Scriptures, as already shown. 



The same important fact finds further confirmation 
in the phenomena of animal instinct. 

1 ' Reasoning at every step he treads, 
Man yet mistakes his way ; 
While meaner things whom instinct leads, 
Are rarely known to stray." — Cowper. 

How great are man's privileges! How dignified and 
noble the position he occupies! He is the active re- 
cipient of the attributes of Deity, and invited and em- 
powered to co-operate with the Eternal Father in diffus- 
ing blessings and dispensing good to His creatures ; 
"made a little lower than the angels," "crowned with 
glory and honor," and having dominion over the works 
of the Divine hand. These are man's privileges and 
capabilities, to be attained by watchfulness and faithful 
obedience. He then becomes a "ministering spirit," 
under the guidance of the Father, and with the power 
from the Father, doing the Father's work. The Father 
works in these obedient ones, both to will and to do of 
His good pleasure, and what they thus do, He does. The 
work is His and the power is His, and to Him be all 
the glory ascribed. The instrument he will fully reward. 

A person in a stream of deep water and unable to 
swim, or in any outward difficulty or danger, cannot be 
extricated without the practical human aid of himself 
or others. His own prayer (I speak it reverently), or 
the united prayers of all mankind cannot save him 
without human aid. Let us keep this in mind, and 
with it our responsibility consequent thereon, and main- 
tain a state of due watchfulness. God works by instru- 
ments in the outward affairs of men. He has created 
us social beings, and placed in our hearts a feeling of 
kindness and sympathy, that prompts to immediate 



action whenever occasion may require. He puts it into 
the hearts of His watchful, obedient children, to be 
hands and feet for Him, and minister to the relief, 
assistance, or necessities of those who need aid. Thus 
such obedient ones become agents or ministering angels 
of the Most High. What a dignified position! 

This is the means appointed by Deity for convey- 
ing special blessings and favors to mankind, thus bind- 
ing them more closely in a common brotherhood, ce- 
mented by love and practical good will. The instru- 
ment, whether ministering in word or deed, will fre- 
quently be wholly ignorant of the favors and blessings 
transmitted through his instrumentality, they being 
known only by the heart of the recipient and the 
Good Being who confers them. 

All the special blessings and comforts extended to 
the different members of the human family — assistance 
to the poor and suffering ; help to the widow and the 
orphan ; care and instruction to the young ; kindness and 
counsel to those setting out in the business of life, — 
proceed from man acting under Divine illumination 
and government, and I am comforted in the belief 
that the number of these willing instruments, these min- 
istering angels of the Most High, is increasing, although 
probably giving little external sign in any other way. 

If we can only be brought fully to recognize this 
important fact, the increase will become more rapid. 

In order to become His true and efficient instru- 
ments we must first labor to be brought into entire 
harmony with the Good Being in all respects, clothed 
with the Spirit, and then, abiding in a state of sensi- 
tive watchfulness, act promptly in conformity to every 
impress or manifestation of duty. 



On the other hand, much of the special suffering, 
cruelty, injustice, misery of all kinds, endured by the 
different members of the human family, proceed from 
man — one's self or others — when in a state of dis- 
obedience or rebellion against the Most High. 

The Good Being, in His marvelous condescension, 
in the freedom which He has bestowed upon man has 
imparted to him the power even to rebel against His 
Maker and disobey His known commands. 

Hence proceed all the special evil, misery, and suf- 
fering in the world. May these thoughts claim our 
deepest reflection, and may this reflection tend to in- 
dividual profit ! 

Every desire and effort to act right and do good is 
practical prayer ; and every feeling of happiness and en- 
joyment from the blessings of which we are partakers, is 
practical and acceptable thanksgiving and praise; but 
these active and healthy engagements of the soul are 
greatly intensified when they are designed for an intel- 
ligent being, who, we are strengthened to believe, smiles 
upon and blesses the effort, and accepts with approbation 
the grateful emotions of the heart. 

When the Apostle John was " in the spirit on the 
Lord's day," which is the time whenever we are willing 
the Lord shall reign in our hearts, he wrote, "He that 
hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the 
churches : To him that overcometh will I give to eat of 
the tree of life that is in the midst of the Paradise of 
God;" and this it is the high privilege of every one to 



Some Reflections in Relation to Peace and War. 

In the editorial notice (No. 42 of Friends' Intelli- 
gencer) of Dr. Miles's report of the conference held at 
Geneva, Switzerland, in Xinth month last, in the interests 
of universal peace, the editor says, "We believe there 
is no subject of equal magnitude now claiming the at- 
tention of the civilized world, and we trust every mem- 
ber of the Society of Friends will do his part to help 
bring about so desirable a result as is contemplated by 
this organization." 

These remarks, together with the following in the 
" scrap column " of the same number : — " There surely 
is a tendency with some to keep whatever of good they 
may have, or that may come to them, and in so doing, 
they impoverish themselves. Let us be stimulated to 
examine our storehouses, whether of the memory or of 
the desk ; peradventure we will find there that which is 
of value, in danger of becoming mouldy. Let us bring 
it forth," — took strong hold of my mind, and induces me 
to bring forth the following, which has lain in my 
"letter-book" since 1871. 

At our late Yearly Meeting (1871) I was one of a 
committee to embody the exercises of the meeting in a 
suitable minute, and I wrote the following paragraph on 
the subject of war : " This advancement of the cause of 
peace will not be effected by aiming at impracticable 
ideals, but by recognizing existing facts, and, under the 
influence of Divine wisdom, endeavoring by the unchang- 
ing principles and laws that govern the heart of humanity, 
to shape and direct the course of events in such manner 
that peace shall be evolved as a. natural and harmonious 
result Then will peace be permanent. Then will man 



hold sacred not only the life, but the rights, interest, and 
happiness of his fellow-man everywhere." 

In the original draft of the minute was this senti- 
ment : " Bad as war is, it is not the worst of evils. 
Anarchy, riot, and mob violence, in which innocent women 
and children indiscriminately suffer, are even worse. 
Hence the necessity in our large cities of a police, 
sustained by military force, to check these in their early 
stages, to which arrangement the inhabitants are indebted 
for their quiet and security. " 

This passed the committee, but, on being read in the 
Yearly Meeting, it was objected to by some Friends, and 
I, having written it, proposed that it should be omitted, 
which was accordingly done. 

Believing the sentiment to be a correct one, however, 
I am encouraged, by the extracts I have quoted at the 
commencement of this article, to revive it at this time, 
and express something further on the subject. 

It is not by legislation, or any external means, that 
war, intemperance, and such like corruptions of human 
nature are to be healed, but by an action or power from 
within — "making clean and pure the inside of the vessel." 

Then the spirit of man being purified and peaceful, 
man's spirit will co-operate with the spirit of God in man> 
which is alwavs striving to bring man into a closer 
union and oneness with God. 

The value of peace and harmony, when they proceed 
from the spirit of peace or the spirit of God in man, 
without which no peace can be permanent, cannot be 
computed ; therefore it is worthy of every effort and of 
all needed sacrifices to obtain them. Virtue and intelli- 
gence are their true foundation. 

But when the spirit of war exists, a practical expe- 



rience of the hurtful consequences to which this evil spirit 
leads may be a means, in the Divine economy, of cor- 
recting and purifying the spirit, and teaching its possessor 
wisdom by what it causes him to suffer. 

I once had a lesson that has been of great value to 
me on this point. 

In the Seventh Month, 1849, with some of my family, 
I made an excursion for recreation and improvement, 
and in passing from Niagara to Montreal, we took pas- 
sage in the "British Line" of steamboats. 

The boat was much crowded. Before we reached 
the outlet of Lake Ontario a difficulty arose between 
two Irish gentlemen, and it was evident that a fight 
would ensue unless there was some intervention. They 
were fine, large, noble-looking specimens of humanity, 
with benevolent countenances, and well dressed, and my 
sympathies were all aroused to prevent the abuse they 
were both in danger of receiving. I went hastily to 
the captain, told him there w r as a fight brewing be- 
tween two of his passengers, and asked his assistance 
in an effort to prevent it, with which request he 
promptly and 'cheerfully complied. He invited one of 
the party to walk with him to the after part of the 
boat, and I asked the other to go with me to the 
upper deck, which he did. It was a most beautiful 
evening, and we were just passing among the "Thou- 
sand Islands" of the St. LawTence. I found my com- 
panion to be very intelligent and appreciative of the 
beauties of nature, and we spent an hour or so in 
agreeable conversation. 

When all seemed calm, and reason entirely en- 
throned, we gradually separated. He went down to 
the lower deck, I following at a little distance, and 



being pretty tall, I was able to keep my eye on him 
in the crowd. At length his eyes and those of the 
one with whom he had had the difficulty met, and in 
less time than I can write it, they had their . coats, 
cravats, and vests off, and began to beat each other in 
such manner as I had never before seen or imagined! 
I felt sick at heart! Xeither seemed to gain any 
advantage over the other. At length they straight- 
ened themselves up and looked each other sternly in 
the face. Then at it they went again, with the same 
result, and a pause as before. After a little while 
they had the third round, more severe and lasting than 
either of the others, but with a similar result ; by 
which time each found he had a worthy antagonist, 
and on straightening up and looking squarely at each 
other, both stepped backward simultaneously, then re- 
tired. They soon returned. Xever probably were two 
men more changed in appearance in so short a time! 
I would not have known them to be the same! One 
had an eye badly bruised and entirely closed from the 
swelling. The other had a large piece gouged out of his 
cheek, and both were scarred and bruised beyond de- 
scription, their shirt bosoms and clothes badly torn, till 
they appeared to be mere wrecks of the persons they 
were half an hour before. 

But the change in their outward appearance was not 
all. Owing to a very dense smoke from burning forests 
that prevailed, the captain had to stop frequently, so that 
we were two days on board, all the passengers mingling 
together ; and there were not two more calm, polite, and 
gentle men on board, and they were particularly kind and 
respectful to each other. They had evidently been bene- 
fited by what they had experienced, and had learned 



wisdom by what they had suffered. When the bitter 
spirit remains, such practical results may be a means of 
pacifying and purifying it. " Great and marvelous are 
Thy works ; just and true are Thy ways !" 

An appeal to the reason of men in a passion is simply 
futile; because by the rise of passion, reason is disen- 
throned, and can only be restored to authority by some 
check from circumstances — by some pressure of environ- 

For the peaceful adjustment of difficulties between 
nations, as we must hope, there will be a sufficiently 
large number possessed of their reason, to direct the 
counsels of the state in a course so obviously to its 

A few months before the Yearly Meeting referred to 
(1871) the subject had weighed heavily on my mind, 
that our Government might embrace the favorable oppor- 
tunity then existing, to advance the interests of peace, and 
thus of humanity, and I wrote a private letter to Presi- 
dent Grant, with the view of delivering it in person 
and explaining my views to him. Before this was done, 
there were communications on the same subject in the 
" Friends' Intelligencer/' and a meeting of the Represen- 
tative Committee of Baltimore Yearly Meeting was called, 
which decided to memorialize the President on the sub- 
ject, and into this my concern became merged. 

In accordance with the suggestion in the " Intelli- 
gencer," I have examined the storehouse of my desk, 
and now produce the letter I wrote to President Grant, 
and the memorandum I made to read to him, containing 
a mode of proceeding, in order to have a true and per- 
manent peace between nations, without looking to a re- 
sort to forcible or warlike measures in any contingency. 




It will be remembered that this subject claimed the 
solemn and active attention of that great apostle of 
peace, William Penn, and in 1695 he wrote what he 
entitled "An essay towards the present and future 
peace of Europe, by the establishment of a European 
diet, parliament, or estates/' from which I will quote 
the entire fourth section, as showing the views on the 
subject of that great statesman and philanthropist : — 

"Section 4. On a general peace or the peace of 
Europe, and the means of it. In my first section I 
showed the desirableness of peace ; in my next the 
truest means of it, viz., justice, not war ; and in my last 
that this justice was the fruit of government, as government 
itself was the result of society; which first came from 
a reasonable design of men of peace. Now if the sov- 
ereign princes of Europe, who represent that society or 
independent state of man that was previous to the obli- 
gations of society, would for the same reason that en- 
gaged men first in society, viz., love of peace and order, 
agree to meet, by their stated deputies, in a general 
diet, estates, or parliament, and there establish rules of 
justice for sovereign princes to observe one to another, 
and thus to meet yearly, or once in two or three years 
at farthest, or as they shall see cause, and to be styled 
1 The Sovereign or Imperial Diet, Parliament, or State of 
Europe,' before which sovereign assembly should be 
brought all differences depending between one sovereign 
and another, that cannot be made up by private embassies 
before the Session begins, and that, [if any of the sov- 
ereignties that constitute these Imperial States shall re- 
fuse to submit their claim or pretensions to them, or to 
abide and perform the judgment thereof, and seek their 
remedy by arms, or delay their compliance beyond the 



time prefixed in their resolutions, all the other sovereign- 
ties united as one strength shall compel the submission and 
performance of the sentence, with damages to the suffer- 
ing party and charges to the sovereignties that obliged 
their submission]. 

" To be sure, Europe would quietly obtain the so much 
desired aud needed peace to her harassed inhabitants ; 
no sovereignty in Europe having the power, and there- 
fore cannot show the will, to dispute the conclusion ; and 
consequently pea^e would be procured and continued in 

It is clearly to be seen, by the part enclosed in 
brackets, "if they refused, all the other sovereignties, 
united as one strength, shall compel the submission " — 
the plan proposed by William Penn contemplated the 
possibility of an ultimate resort to force. 

Since the time William Penn wrote, now well nigh 
two centuries ago, a new power has arisen, as an aid to 
induce and regulate peaceful relations between nations 
— that is, the financial one, or the benefits of trade and 
commerce, as I endeavor to show in the following 
"memorandum," which I prepared to read to President 
Grant after he had read my letter. 

Sandy Spring, Md., 8th 3fo., 1871. 
Ulysses S. Grant, President of the United States : 

Dear Friend : — The present is a remarkable period in 
the world's history. Events of the highest significance^ in some 
of which thon hast been a prominent actor, succeed each other 
with unprecedented rapidity. This rapid succession demands 
coincident and unremitted vigilance, lest the opportunity xo 
impart that wise direction to these events of which they 
are capable, and which the best interests of humanity re- 



quire, shall be permitted to pass unimproved. Every in- 
dividual, however humble and limited his sphere of action, 
must be faithful in the performance of whatever part may 
be required of him in the great work which is manifestly 
in progress, in order that all may proceed with that health- 
ful and harmonious regularity which is beneficial to our 
people and our race. 

The successful termination of the convention in Wash- 
ington City, which thou wast instrumental in procuring, by 
which a mode of adjusting the pending questions of dif- 
ference between the United States and Great Britain was 
amicably agreed upon, by the "Treaty of Washington," to 
the satisfaction of the governments and peoples of both 
countries, thus giving the joyous promise of peace and fra- 
ternity, where the horrors of war were so imminent, has 
imparted to the friends of humanity additional ground to 
hope that the same wise, peaceful, and Christian mode by 
which this happy issue was consummated, may be adopted 
to settle all difficulties and differences that may in future 
arise between nations. 

In view of the existing political condition of Europe, 
the present time appears eminently propitious for a favora- 
ble consideration of such a measure. 

In contemplating this momentous subject with deep and 
reverential feeling, confidently believing that the "Unseen 
Hand," whose workings have been so marvelously witnessed 
in the removal of slavery from our beloved country, is now 
outstretched to lead on to the greater and more widespread 
blessing of permanent peace between the nations, to the 
saving of a vast number of lives and amount of misery 
and treasure which cannot be computed, the undersigned 
believes it to be his duty thus respectfully and privately to 
suggest to thee the propriety of thy bringing the subject 
before the Congress of the United States at its next session, 
either in thy annual message or in a special communication 
to that body, in such form as thou mayest think most likely 
to effect the desirable object, recommending that measures be 
taken to make a proposition, in suitable terms, by this Gov- 



ernment to the governments of other nations, to unite in 
adopting some measure by which all national difficulties and 
differences may be peacefully and amicably settled, so that 
" nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall 
they learn war any more." 

If thy mind has already been turned to this subject, 
with a view to taking action thereon in the direction already 
indicated, as is most probably the case, then ix is earnestly 
desired that thou mayest be encouraged to proceed in the 
good work, which from the great benefit its accomplishment 
would be to His children, cannot fail to receive the blessing 
and favor of the good and merciful Father. 

With the greatest sincerity, the undersigned feels at liberty 
to add that he believes there is no one with whom the 
inauguration of this important message could, with as much 
propriety, originate as thyself; regarded by the people as 
amongst the greatest of generals the world has ever pro- 
duced, and at the head of what is acknowledged to be one of 
the most powerful, prosperous, and enlightened nations of 
the earth, and yet whose continued effort has been, and is, 
for an amicable settlement of all disputes and difficulties ; 
one who recognizes the " Golden Rule" of measuring our duty 
to others by what we would desire them to do to us, 
as being equally obligatory among nations, whether strong 
or weak, as among individuals ; and whose pleading entreaty 
to all people on all occasions is, ' 1 Let us have peace. ' ' 
Very respectfully thy sincere friend, 


to accompany the preceding Letter, and to be read to 
the President 

A great difficulty exists in devising a working plan, 
by which such a measure as is suggested in the fore- 
going letter, should it happily be adopted, can be con- 



sistently carried out ; that is, in devising a mode of 
proceeding by which the terms that may be agreed upon 
by a convention or congress of the representatives of the 
different nations, and adopted by their governments, 
shall be enforced or maintained, without looking to com- 
pulsory or warlike measures, should a party to the 
peaceful arrangement fail to comply with its provisions 
or requisitions. 

There is, however, good reason to believe that there 
is a xcay, and a right way, to attain every right object ; 
and with the guidance of that " wisdom which is from 
above," and which will surely not be withheld from the 
sincere actors in such a heaven-inspired movement, a 
means can certainly be devised to secure peacefully all 
that will promote the best welfare of nations and of 

One element of action has been suggested to my 
mind as being calculated to contribute to this impor- 
tant end: that is, in regulating the commercial inter- 
course between different countries. Should peaceful 
relations be secured between all civilized nations, an 
immense amount of annual expenditure for the army 
and navy would become unnecessary, and thus be saved, 
to be employed in advancing the national prosperity and 
the interests of j)eace and enlightened civilization. 

Such nations therefore as may fail to come into the 
peaceful measures agreed upon by several governments, 
and any one of these that might subsequently violate 
the promised support in the maintenance of them, 
would be the of making it necessary for those 
governments which are disposed to preserve peaceful 
relations with all peoples to maintain a military and 
naval power, and hence they would be the cause of 



imposing these war expenditures upon these govern- 

A discrimination therefore could very properly and 
justly be made in establishing commercial relations be- 
tween the different governments, by which the means 
of paying these war expenditures should be drawn, in 
whole or in chief, from those governments which ren- 
der them necessary, — the anti-peaceful ones, — by laying 
heavy duties upon their exports, and high rates for 
all postal and telegraphic communications ; while be- 
tween the peaceful nations the fullest freedom of in- 
tercourse and of trade might safely be permitted to 
exist, such as is now happily in operation among the 
different States of our Union, and the privilege always 
to be secured to any anti-peaceful State to become a 
member of the peaceful fraternity of governments, and 
partake of all its benefits and immunities. 

It may be queried how under such arrangement 
would the expenses of the National Government be 
paid ? To this it is answered, in the same manner 
that those of the States of the Union now are. All 
the vast expenses of the National Government are now 
paid by our people. In the proposed peaceful arrange- 
ment the army and navy expenditures, including those 
for fortifications, their maintenance, etc., which together 
constitute a very heavy item in the annual expenses, 
would immediately be greatly diminished, and we trust 
in time removed entirely, so that the amount to be 
raised annually would be far less than now. There 
would also be a large diminution in the Custom House 
expenses. Therefore, there would be much less national 
expense than at present, and of course less money to 
be paid by the people in direct or in indirect taxes. 



The only difficulty would be in the mode of assess- 
ment, and the wisdom of the national legislature, with 
such important consequences pending, can certainly 
make that equitable, just, and satisfactory to the mass 
of the people. 

Should any species of manufacture be of sufficient 
national importance to render it a proper object of 
Goyernment encouragement, in order to bring it up to 
the full condition of perfection and usefulness of which 
it is capable, and to become self-sustaining, such aid 
could be furnished by Government as now, the aid to 
terminate when the manufacture shall become self- 
sustaining or its relative national importance ceases. 

In a civil community, where an unruly person or a 
body of lawless people act in such manner as fla- 
grantly to violate the peace, safety, and rights of 
those around them, such person or people must be se- 
cured or confined as a protective measure . even though 
lives are lost on one side or the other, or both, in 
obtaining this result. 

This must be done in order to prevent a continu- 
ance or spread of the evil, to stay further lawlessness 
and aggression, and the probable loss of a far greater 
number of lives, including those of innocent women and 
children, than would be sacrificed in checking it, as well 
as to maintain that good order which the security, hap- 
piness, and healthy condition of society imperatively 

It is vain to look, on such occasions, to a special 
interposition of Providence for protection, or the removal 
of the scourge. Deity acts, in human affairs, only 
through instrumental means ; and He has already fur- 
nished mankind with the means of self-preservation and 



protection from outward aggression, in the physical 
power with which, in His wisdom and goodness, He 
has endowed him ; in the reason he has bestowed 
to direct these, and to discover and use all his material 
laws, to protect from wild beasts and from men whose 
passions have dethroned their reason and made them 
more dangerous than wild beasts ; and also, in the 
moral power, or spiritual influence, to restrain from 
every wrong action, and preserve all in harmony with 
the eternal principles of right, justice, and love. 

But all efforts to secure permanent peaceful relations 
in communities, should be continually and wisely made 
by increasing virtue and intelligence among the people ; 
and every renewed opportunity, such as at present exists, 
to advance the righteous cause of peace among nations, 
should be promptly embraced, in order that the welfare 
of humanity may be secured, and the noble aspiration, 
"Let us have peace," be fulfilled. 

"Whence is Evil?" 

The beautiful extract from " Augustine's Soliloquies," 
in " Friends' Intelligencer " of Twelfth month 30th (No. 
45, current volume), making the inquiry, "Whence is evil?" 
touches a subject upon which there has been much 
discussion and controversy in different ages; and the 
subject is revived with renewed energy and great learn- 
ing in recent times, — " How came evil and wickedness 
into the world?" 

Seeing the much evil and great wickedness which 
man, the highest and noblest of God's works, commits* 



it is maintained by some, in order to explain the myste- 
rious phenomenon, that Deity abrogated His omnipo- 
tence, omnipresence, and benevolence, in favor of man, 
and leaves him free to rule and act independently for a 
limited space and time. 

I take an entirely different view of the subject, which 
I feel it right to endeavor to present. 

Everything that can be known of Deity leads the 
thoughtful mind to the necessary conclusion that He is 
all wise and all good, so that evil or wickedness could 
not originate with or proceed from Him. 

Now, Deity, in His wisdom, has endowed man with 
freedom of choice, which endowment is essential to the 
happiness and advancement of a rational being. Conse- 
quently, if man is free to choose the good, he may a 
choose the evil ; if he is free to obey, he must be free to 
rebel. The highest evidence to my mind of the good- 
ness and condescension of the Almighty, is seen in the 
astonishing fact, that He has conferred on man, the 
creature, the power even to rebel against his Creator. 

The commission of wrong is, by a wise, benevolent, 
and immutable law of the good Providence in the con- 
stitution of man, always attended by suffering. By this 
suffering we are taught wisdom. We are all at school. 
The whole human family are scholars, learning and 
growing wiser, some very rapidly of latter times. The 
progress of a people or a community in civilization and 
enlightenment is in proportion to, or is measured by, the 
suffering, distress, and misery which such people or com- 
munity experience, all events tending ultimately to ele- 
vate, purify, and benefit them, and render them more 
intelligent and happy. 

It is not in the power of Deity (I say it reverently), 



to compel a man to be happy against his will or with- 
out his co-operation. If a man could be made obedient 
and happy by compulsion, every rational creature, such 
are the love and care of the good Father, would now 
be wholly under the Divine government. But while 
Deity invites all, He compels none ; He leaves all free 
to choose. 

The Creator never formed a creature that He could 
not control. He knew just what man was when He 
brought him into existence ; and he is just the being 
that an intelligent existence, possessed of freedom of 
choice, with various desires, appetites, and propensities, 
and placed amidst objects by which these can be excited 
and gratified, must naturally be. 

But, while man is free to chocse, if he violates the 
laws of truth, justice, and love, the penalty is attached, 
that he must suffer. This is an immutable law, as all 
human experience testifies; and the suffering becomes 
greater and greater, until ultimately it becomes so great 
that he is brought voluntarily to yield to the invitations 
of Divine love, and come under the government of the 
spirit of truth, in which state he finds peace, because 
his spirit is brought into harmony with the spirit of 

Hence it is seen that evil and wickedness came into 
the world by man's disobedience, and that suffering is 
the great means employed by Deity for man's improve- 
ment and progress. It acts as a check or curb to his 
evil ways. All the desires, appetites, and propensities 
are in themselves good and pleasure -producing, when 
wisely used, — that is, when used in healthy moderation. 
It is only when indulged in to excess that they become 
hurtful or produce, suffering. And the knowledge of 



the limit between due moderation and excess is to be 
gained by observation and experience by ourselves or 
others ; so that our own observation and experience, 
united with that of others, are the great sources of 
knowledge in moral training. 

By these, man is brought to see that in his state of 
disobedience he was ignorant of what would have pro- 
moted his true welfare and peace. 

This brings us to the important practical point, to 
see how evil and wickedness are to be overcome or re- 
moved, which is by the extension of this knowledge by 
the removal of ignorance, and securing the universal 
education and enlightenment of all classes of society, 

Discouraging as may be the outlook in our country 
at present, there are still many evidences of a steady 
progress and improvement during the past century in 
the whole civilized world, and this improvement is still 
going on. 

Human life is held to be more sacred by the great 
mass of the people ; kindness, justice, and right are more 
regarded, and the import of the fact, as stated at the 
close of an address by Samuel Longfellow, is more clearly 
and instructively seen, that "a wrong thing is never a 
success, nor a right thing a failure, seem things as they 

Some Results of Reflection and Meditation. 

I entertain a full belief that what was written for- 
merly was written for our instruction, and that with what 
was recorded, there was frequently associated in the mind 



of the author a spiritual meaning of instructive signifi- 
cance, which may be opened to the contemplative mind. 

Of this kind, I have thought, are the expressions of 
a wise king, as recorded in Canticles II., xi. and xii., 
" Lo ! the winter is past ; the rain is over and gone ; 
the flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the sing- 
ing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is 
heard in the land." 

There seems in this beautiful description to be im- 
plied such a sweet revivification after a winter of cold, 
wet, darkness, and decay (a spiritual condition which, 
no doubt, every traveler Zionward at times experiences), 
after which all nature breaks with beauty and joy, and 
the soul is enabled to see and feel that the clouds and 
vapors in which it had been enveloped were all from 
the earth — a mental doubt or bodily infirmity — so 
that if the soul will arouse its inherent energies, it may 
rise above all those mists, and bask in the beams of 
Eternal Love, corresponding to the outward sun, which 
is always shining, however dark and dreary the day 
may be. 

It contributes greatly to man's happiness and to 
the staidness of his religious feelings to have a clear 
and settled conclusion in regard to his relation to the 
Supreme Being — his Creator. 

Deity created man for happiness. God never gave 
life but to spread the enjoyment of existence. He 
never created but to bless. He is always ready and 
willing to help, save, bless, and bring into the king- 
dom. " Fear not, little flock," said the blessed Jesus, 
"it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the 
kingdom." Cod is no " respecter of persons." It must 
therefore be His "good pleasure" to give the kingdom 



to every soul, and every individual may consider 
this language addressed to him or herself : " It is the 
Father's good pleasure to give thee the kingdom." 
When any one in true humility and truthfulness 
breathes the aspiration, " If Thou wilt, Thou canst 
make me clean," the response is immediate, " I will : 
be thou clean," and such soul is instantly cleansed of 
its maladies as far as it respects Deity. But we must 
bear in mind that these maladies may have beeif the 
results of long-continued errors or habits that have 
been increasing in strength, and it will require a long- 
continued effort wholly to overcome them. But if per- 
severed in, craving Divine help, this overcoming will ulti- 
mately be effected, because all the powers for good in the 
universe are acting with such striving and aspiring soul. 

In the pathetic lamentation of the blessed Jesus 
over Jerusalem : " How often would I have gathered 
thy children, but ye would not ; " the same as if He had 
said, " The good Father would have saved you, but your 
wills resisted the wisdom and power of God." And thus 
it is with any who are not gathered and saved, in all 
time. Deity, by His spirit or His good angel in the 
soul, desires and strives to save all, but the human will 
resists the proffered salvation. 

It is a great truth that God breathed into man the 
breath of life, and man became, and is, a living soul. 
By the term " soul " is meant the conscious moral be- 
ing, or that part of the human constitution which is 
capable of being impressed and enlightened by the spirit 
of God, and of controlling the will, when the soul and 
will are both in a healthy condition. This " breath of 
life " thus breathed into man must be of the Divine na- 
ture —the communicable attributes of Deity — justice, 



truth, love, mercy, purity, and holiness; and when these 
are impressed on the soul and control the will, they bring 
man more and more into the " image of God," govern- 
ing his will, and bringing it into harmony with the Di- 
vine will. As has been beautifully and figuratively 
said, "All the powers of God are winged, being always 
eager and striving for the higher patih which leads to 
God," bearing the soul upward and onward, nearer and 
nearer to Him, not in place, but in condition or state ; 
more and more godly in life, more just, kind, true, pure, 
and holy; these principles manifesting themselves by 
regulating all the conduct. Being influenced by the 
spirit of truth, such " are guided into all truth " and 

These Divine attributes, with which it is man's privi- 
lege to be endowed, are all spirit forces; they control 
his will, so that it becomes his life, his meat, and his 
drink to do the will of God. He is clothed with right- 
eousness as with a garment. All that w r e can see of 
him, in word or conduct, gives evidence of the Divine 
principles by which he is governed. He is a "son of 
God," for he is led by the spirit of God. 

Together with those great and eternal principles, the 
good Father has endowed man with an understanding 
capable of comprehending all His laws, physical, intel- 
lectual, and spiritual, and of adapting them to His 
various purposes. 

These two guides — the Spirit of God and the Under- 
standing or Reason — must always be in harmony with 
each other, because they both proceed from the same 
bountiful source, and are both enlightened by the same 
glorious effulgence. 

It is by the combined influence or assistance of these 



Divinely furnished powers that man is to perform every- 
thing of good that he may attempt in life. He need 
not look for special direction or help. God is always 
ready and willing to help, bless, and prosper every effort 
to do good in harmony with these powers. 

Of this truth let every one be assured (not waiting 
for anything special), and the truth will be confirmed 
by practical experience. Let him be "up and doing," 
with the ability with which God in these powers has 
furnished him, embracing at the same time frequent 
opportunities for silent meditation and retirement, in 
order to have a renewal of strength, and he will find a 
growth in wisdom, experience, and peace. 

Truth is more in harmony with man's nature than 
error ; right than wrong ; virtue than vice ; and truth, 
right, and virtue would always be chcsen in preference 
to error, wrong, and vice, if men were wise and enlight- 
ened, and understood the real nature of what they were 
choosing and doing. Most of the errors of men arise 
from ignorance, which is very inconvenient as well as 
very hurtful. Hence the pathetic imploration of the 
blessed Jesus, " Father, forgive them, they 'know not 
•what they do." And the nearer men come to that 
pure, enlightened state that Jesus occupied, the more 
earnestly does a similar aspiration for the erring rise 
from their hearts. The disastrous criminal offences of 
which nearly every day brings us a report, involving 
not only the authors of them, but their families and 
near friends, in deep trouble and suffering, it cannot be 
believed would take place, were not the perpetrators of 
them ignorant of the sad consequences that result from 
them, did they possess this one great truth : " A wrong 



thing is never a success, nor a right thing a failure, 
seem things as they may." 

A wrong thing connects itself with everything that 
is wrong in the universe ; while on the other hand, 
what is right connects itself with universal good, and 
thus with God, and must triumph, for His power is 
above all other powers combined. 

Now, if young people would only bear these facts in 
mind, and avoid taking the first step in wrong, knowing 
that that course will certainly lead to darkness, distress, 
and misery, deeper and darker the further it is pursued, 
and be firm in the right (and then they will always be 
certain of having the help of the good Father), they will 
have acquired a practical lesson that will enable them to 
pass safely and happily through the various vicissitudes of 

The consequences of ignorance being so hurtful, and, 
in many cases, at present unavoidable, would seem cal- 
culated to induce a feeling of discouragement, did we 
not remember that 

"He, our gracious Father, kind as just, 
Knowing our frame, remembers we are dust." 

The Scripture injunction is, " Add to your virtue, 
knowledge, 7 ' and this is the standing and universal obli- 
gation of every one. Become enlightened, scientific, 
acquainted with the laws and truths of nature! Science 
is classified knowledge. There can be no just conflict be- 
tween science and religion. They both proceed from the 
fountain of all knowledge, truth, and goodness. Both 
are gained and increased by silent meditation, with the 
mind and will attentive and obedient to the influences 
of the Good Father. 




There is a great amount of very valuable knowledge 
to be gained by reading, making us acquainted with the 
thoughts of other men, and with facts and events of 
past times, which possesses many advantages ; but truth 
and new discoveries must be labored for — must be 
sought in patient, silent meditation and retirement, with 
the soul ardently aspiring after the All-good. 

In this condition of silent meditation the truth was 
revealed to George Fox that there was no need for men 
to go to Cambridge or Oxford for qualification to preach 
the gospel, but that all which was required was obedi- 
ence to the manifestation of truth in their own hearts. 

By the same means (retirement and meditation) was 
it revealed to Isaac Newton that the force which im- 
parts form to the planets and retains them in their 
orbits, is the same force that " moulds the starting tear, 
and makes it trickle from its source," from which he 
deduces the law of universal gravitation. 

By the same silent meditation, and an abiding confi- 
dence in the wisdom and unchangeableness of the Crea- 
tor, it was revealed to Charles Lyell that all the changes 
which have taken place in the earth in past times were 
produced by causes or agencies which are now in ope- 
ration. So of the important discoveries of John Tyndall 
in relation to light ; Joseph Henry, of the Smithsonian 
Institution, in regard to magnetism (of which the mag- 
netic telegraph is one of the outgrowths) ; and so of 
many other persons who have made useful discoveries 
in truth, the requisites in all being the same. 

These facts or truths which have thus been dis- 
covered have existed " from the beginning." Why, then, 
being so useful to man, have they not been discovered 
before? This is from no change in Deity. He is un- 



changeable. Deity has always been as ready and willing 
to reveal them as He is now ; but man was not pre- 
pared to receive and properly interpret the revelation. 

Herein we see evidence that the "thoughts of men 
are widened with the process of the suns." 

We naturally love those who have benefited us by 
their labors and discoveries. We have strong affection 
for George Fox, William Penn, Newton, Henry, and 
many others, by whose labors and discoveries we are 
enjoying many blessings, and deriving numerous daily 
advantages which, but for their labors and discoveries, 
we should not have possessed. 

They made many and great sacrifices, each indi- 
vidual being led to labor in his own field of dis- 
covery ; and they are rightfully entitled and permitted 
by the Good Father to share with Him the gratitude 
of those that can appreciate the blessings they enjoy 
through the labors of these worthies. 

It will be a day of great and beneficent progress of 
the human mind, when men rid themselves of the super- 
stition of special providences, and come to understand 
practically that Deity is unchangeable, " the same yester- 
day, to-day, and forever ;" that with God " is no varia- 
bleness, neither shadow of turning;" that He "is no 
respecter of persons." 

All who have ever lived, however wise and distin- 
guished they may have been, were not supernaturally 
enlightened, or spontaneously endowed with the great 
ideas they possessed ; but on the contrary, every indi- 
vidual of them, including Abraham, Moses, George Fox, 
William Penn, has been the product of the age that 
preceded him, together with his own environments and 



Besides unjustly attributing partiality to Deity, this 
view of special endowment for certain positions and 
callings in life detracts much from the regard and 
affection we are naturally led to feel for those devoted 
servants of God. When their qualification for useful 
labor is attributed to special preparation by Deity, they 
fail entirely to be an example to us. Whereas, by re- 
garding it, as it truly is, as being due to their individual 
devotedness and faithfulness to the light of Divine 
truth in their own souls, they proclaim a loud invita- 
tion to all of us to follow in the same path of obedience 
— to the " light," which is always accompanied by 
power. For the fact cannot be too frequently or em- 
phatically impressed upon the mind, that the wisdom and 
power of God — light and strength — are ever united, — 
the ability to see being always accompanied by the 
power to do. 

No person who is free from superstition, and who 
possesses a just idea of the attributes of Deity, particu- 
larly of His impartiality, can ever consider himself or 
his people to be special objects of Divine favor. 

Deity, being unchangeable and impartial, undoubt- 
edly has, from His first teachings to humanity, which is 
always done by impressions upon the soul, spoken in the 
same pure, peaceful, just language to the souls of the 
people that he did to George Fox and William Penn ; 
but the outward teachings and environments of the pre- 
ceding ages had not prepared men to give that interpre- 
tation to the impression received that these worthies did. 

When William Penn, in the year 1680, came into 
possession, by a grant from the King of England, of a 
large tract of country in America, which it devolved 
upon him to govern, his thoughts were naturally led to 



study the principles of government ; and his mind 
(already expanded by travel and experience, and being 
of a logical turn), together with the eternal principles 
of right and justice inculcated by his religious profes- 
sion and his environments, soon enabled him to see, and 
to say, as he did in his first letter to the inhabitants of 
Pennsylvania : 

"It hath pleased God in His Providence to cast 
you within my lot and care. It (government) is a 
business that, though I never undertook before, yet 
God hath given me an understanding of my duty, 
and an honest mind to do it uprightly." 

Penn was thus led to see " the desirableness of 
peace," that the "true means of maintaining peace are 
right, justice, and kindness, not war; that this justice 
was the fruit of government, as government itself was 
the result of society, which first came from a reason- 
able design of men of peace," and the love of peace 
and order. 

This revelation to the mind of Penn of the nature 
and requirements of true, just, and peaceful govern- 
ment, and his faithful obedience to the manifestations 
as they were gradually unfolded to him, as had been 
the case with that faithful and devoted fellow-laborer, 
George Fox, naturally inspire feelings of affection and 
reverence, that are due to them from us, who enjoy 
so many blessings and privileges in freedom, intelli- 
gence, and good government, as the result of their sac- 
rifices and labor. And the principles of right, justice, 
and peace, which shone out from them so brightly, 
have been a beneficent light, not only to the Society 
of Friends, and to our beloved country, but to the 
wiiole civilized world. 



But while we enjoy these -blessings and privileges, 
and feel that they to whom we are indebted for them 
are rightfully entitled and permitted by the Good 
Father to share with Him the gratitude and joy of a 
heart that is capable of appreciating them, let us not 
arrogate to ourselves, either individually or as a So- 
ciety, any claims to superior merit or favor for .heir 
services and sacrifices. As has been admirably said by 
my highly esteemed friend, Richard J. Bowie, Judge 
of the Court of Appeals of Maryland, " AVe cannot 
live on the reputation of our progenitors. He is a 
pauper indeed who adds nothing to his patrimony in 
fortune or fame. Degenerate sons of noble sires are 
the most pitiable objects of moral existence. The hol- 
lowest pretension of human pride is descent from dis- 
tinguished ancestry, while devoid of noble thoughts or 
noble deeds." 

They performed their work well and faithfully, and 
we must do ours at the present time in like manner. 
Unless Ave advance upon what they did, we are spirit- 
ually dead. A living tree grows every year,- — 
puts out new branches, new leaves, and new fruit. 
And it is equally true of spiritual development, the 
powers becoming more and more pure and refined, 
enabling the soul to perceive advanced and advancing 
truths and duties, until, in the beautiful and highly 
figurative language of Scripture, "The light of the 
moon shall be as the light of the sun, and the light 
of the sun shall be seven fold, as the light of seven 
days." — Isaiah xxx., 26. 

In this Centennial year, 1876, it seems particularly 
appropriate that the sincere convictions should be clearly 
and emphatically set forth, to which obedience to .the 



comprehensive injunction of George Fox, " mind the 
Light " (which, as just stated, is progressive), has brought 
some members of the Society of Friends, as a basis or 
platform, upon which it is believed all members of 
Friends' Society — indeed, all peoples, may confidently 
rest. For George Fox founded no sect. He invited 
all mankind to those universal and eternal principles of 
truth and righteousness, which are as pure as divinity, 
as broad as humanity, and as enduring as eternity. 
These principles are all active powers — spirit forces — 
each winged as a good angel, bearing the soul upward 
and onward in purity and holiness, nearer and nearer 
to the Good Father. 

A knowledge of God cannot be imparted or received 
by words. It cannot be described. It cannot be written. 
It must be communicated by the immediate impress of 
the spirit of God upon the souls of His rational crea- 
tures. In this manner is obtained, unmistakably, a 
knowledge of His attributes. 

The best preparation or condition for receiving this 
knowledge I believe to be reverential, silent worship. 
Worship is an act of the soul. It is an effort to attain 
a state of greater arid greater perfection, striving, with 
humble and earnest aspiration, to assimilate itself to 
Deity by becoming of the Divine nature — to be "per- 
fect, even as the Father is perfect" — crying, Abba, 
Father, deep calling unto deep. For the soul of man 
is a great deep, which nothing short of Deity can fill. 
The possession of the greatest wealth, learning, power, 
and other outward things, still leaves an aching void in 
the soul. King Solomon's experience proved them to 
be, not merely vanity, but vexation of spirit. While at 
the same time, a single wave or pulsation of the Father's 



love not only fills the soul, but causes it to overflow to 
all mankind, accompanied by the feeling of peace and 

The humble, earnest desire and effort for a higher, 
purer life, a closer walk with God, persisted in day by 
day, raises the soul to a higher plane, on which its pos- 
sessor is further removed from earth, or the government 
of his animal nature, so that the attraction and power 
of worldly things are diminished, and he is brought 
wholly within the sphere of heavenly influences and 
enj oyments. 

Here is a state of peace and rest, or a time for one 
" encampment " on the spiritual journey, where the " Guid- 
ing Angel " halts for a season. But, after a little time, 
the " Good Angel," by inducing a feeling of unrest, sum- 
mons the traveller to further labor on his spiritual 
journey, when the desire and effort are again brought 
into exercise to raise the traveller on to a still higher 
plane, and in this manner he will proceed in successive 
labors and rests, or halts, each, when accomplished, bring- 
ing peace of mind and joy ; until, ultimately, his " peace 
shall flow as a river, and his righteousness as the waves 
of the sea," continual and refreshing. Here is the state 
required for true labor, as an instrument of good in the 
Divine hand. 

Prayer is not words, nor are the best of words prayer. 
Prayer is an earnest aspiration or yearning of the 
soul after the highest good, in harmony with the spirit 
of God in us, this spirit making intercession with our 
spirits with feelings that cannot be uttered. Whatever 
is petitioned for in such a state of the soul, with a 
continuous, calm, steady, undisturbed, watchful conscious- 
ness, will be in harmony with the Divine mind and 



will, and it will be received, for such is the " asking" 
to which the promise applies, "Ye shall receive." 

Eastern Tale. 

By the late Moses Sheppard, of Baltimore.* 

Gonzalmo, in early life, was strongly impressed with 
the importance of the trust confided to him, of securing 
a happy perpetual residence for an immortal spirit of 
which he was the recipient. His labors and researches 
were stimulated by the magnitude and duration of the 
object to be obtained. He studied the Scriptures, and 
consulted the opinions and productions of the wise and 
pious. He acquired a knowledge of the Oriental lan- 
guages, and thus arrived at the fountain from which 
Christianity flowed, to direct probationers here to future 
bliss in the region beyond the valley of the shadow 
of death. 

Having acquired a correct knowledge of Christianity 
by ascending to its source, he practiced its duties with 
undeviating constancy. Alive to the fatal effects of 
error in the momentous requirements of religion, he 
felt anxious for the happiness of his primogenitors, as 
ignorance might produce direful consequences to them. 
Stimulated by pious solicitude and filial affection, he 
prayed for a corporeal resurrection of his forefathers, 
that he might examine them personally in regard to 
their religious beliefs. 

*B. H. was much interested in this allegory, from the 
moral it contained. 



An angel descended and addressed him, "Gonzalmo, 
your prayers are heard, and your petition is granted. 
To-morrow your progenitors shall be arranged at your 
right handy Gonzalmo directed his descendants to 
place themselves at his left hand. 

When his forefathers were arranged in a line, he 
was astonished at their grotesque appearance. He be- 
held a turbaned Turk, a Red Cross Knight, with a group 
of nondescripts ! But his object was to ascertain the 
safety of their souls, and he began an examination. 
The Turk vociferated, " Praise to God ! I am the slave 
of Ali !" The knight declared that he who gave neither 
money nor personal services to rescue the Holy Land 
from the infidels, was himself an infidel. A priest held 
up a cross, exclaiming, "You deny the Real Presence, 
and although you are my descendant, for this her- 
esy I would consign you to the stake." A doctor of 
the Sorbonne gave hini a severe lecture for his apostasy. 
By another he was vehemently denounced for denying 
the doctrine of electors. 

Knowing that they were wrong, and being certain 
that he was right, he felt irritated ; but sympathy softened 
his resentment. He informed them that, since their time, 
researches had enabled sincere Christians to correct 
many errors, and replace them with truth ; new lights 
had arisen and dispelled the obscurity in which Chris- 
tianity had been shrouded. 

Although his ancestors did not agree among them- 
selves, they all agreed that he was a heretic, and regretted 
they had an apostate descendant. 

Grieved at the fatal errors of his progenitors, he 
turned with anticipated joy to his posterity, to whom he 
had imparted the unchangeable doctrines of Christ in 



their purity; but he was overwhelmed with sorrow to 
find that they had abandoned the saving doctrines he 
had taught them. To his remonstrances they replied, 
" Researches have enabled sincere Christians to correct 
many errors and replace them with truth. New lights 
have arisen, and dispelled the obscurity in which Chris- 
tianity had been shrouded." 

Grieved and agonized at the thought of being the 
parent of an apostate race, and at the awful consequences 
of their fatal errors, he was inconsolable. But they were 
his offspring ; and, notwithstanding their startling aberra- 
tions, he desired to rescue them. He therefore offered 
up a fervent prayer for their admission into heaven. 
The angel again descended, and announced to him that 
his prayer had availed. " Your children are accepted. 
Had your prayer been general, yourself would have been 
admitted also. But, as it was confined to your de- 
scendants, you are excluded. The selfish and uncharitable 
are not admitted into Paradise" 




Two months only after writing the preceding Auto- 
biography, our dear father was called on to part with 
the loved companion of more than fifty years. Though 
bearing up with wonderful fortitude and cheerfulness, 
it seemed to us who were near that life was never 
again the same to him. 

He performed all his daily duties, visited his friends 
while strength permitted, took a deep interest in the re- 
cently discovered truths of science, and in the events 
of the day, and communed more closely than ever 
with nature and his Heavenly Father ; but he con- 
stantly missed her who had been his beloved in early 
manhood, his helper and counsellor in his prime, and 
the object of his tender and constant solicitude when 
disease dimmed her bright intellect and benumbed her 
busy hands. She was well worthy of all that he be- 
stowed upon her. Much as he had accomplished in 
his passage through the world, he knew that her en- 
couragement when he was depressed, and her calm and 
restraining influence when unduly aroused, were most 
valuable supplements to his more impulsive character. 

She placed before us an example of industry, econ- 
omy, patience, purity, and truthfulness, and a charity 

* From the close of the Autobiography. By his son Henry 
C. HaUowell. 



that kept her silent as to the failings of others. She 
passed quietly from us on the 1st of Fifth month, 1875. 

From this time father continued as nearly as possible 
in his accustomed habits, the faithful Bridget Murray 
(who had lived with them since 1858) providing his meals 
as usual, which he preferred taking at the same table 
where he had so often eaten alone during mother's sick- 
ness. The son and daughter-in-law, who occupied the 
same home, would have been glad to have him at their 
table, but the necessary confusion of little children, and 
his difficulty of hearing, made him feel more comfortable 
in his own part of the house. He wrote considerably for 
" Friends' Intelligencer," and to his numerous correspond- 
ents, and passed much of his time in reading, walking, 
and reflection. Many of his friends called to see him, 
and numerous visitors to the neighborhood came to pay 
their respects, either for their own sake or for that of 
friends who had known and loved him. He went out 
twice a day, when suitable, to take his " sun-bath," his 
walk being either to a neighboring clump of pines, 
" around the square," as he called it, when he went out. 
of one entrance and returned by the other, or up and 
down the lawn, where there were seats placed, upon 
which he might rest as his strength became less and 
less. He had always been remarkably strong in his 
limbs, so that long after a stranger would have thought 
him too weak to walk, he would go down the lawn to 
his little " observatory," though it was a painful sight, 
toward the last, to see how his 'walk shortened and his 
once active frame drooped from the weakness of disease. 

He had from childhood been a close observer of na- 
ture, and on his seventy-seventh birthday a weather vane, 
rustic seat, etc., were put up on an adjacent hill, where 



he could command an unobstructed view of the heavens, 
and such of his children and grandchildren as could be 
present, with some other dear relatives, were invited to 
come to "dedicate" it. 

It was a most pleasant evening, and he several times 
afterwards alluded to it as one of the happiest occasions 
of his life. He had pleasantly insisted several times 
on one of his children making an address, or "little 
speech," as he called it ; so the following lines were writ- 
ten by a son, just before going out, and were read while 
we were all standing near, he and his loved sister-in- 
law, Phebe Farquhar, being seated on the bench: 

One by one the years glide by, 
Shod the while with silken feet ; 

We sleep, we wake, we smile, we sigh, 
And lo ! life's circle is complete. 

Yet how Jong the days we live, 
Measured by the work we do ! 

We toil, we mourn, we take, we give, 
Ever met by labors new. 

Long, our father, is thy life, 
Spent in working for thy race, 

Never lagging in the strife, 
Ever found in duty's place. 

Soldiers on the distant plain, 
Teachers, striving for their kind, 

Sailors on the stormy main, 

Toilers with the hand and mind, 

Turn with tender thoughts to thee, 
Shaper of their life's career, 

Thy loved form in memory see, 
Hold thy precepts ever dear. 


Dwellers on the prairies vast, 

By the mighty rivers' flood, 
Tell how, in the years long past, 

Came the Preacher, doing good. 

He, whose form shall soon be found 

On the breezy plain no more, 
Who seeks the "happy hunting ground," 

To shun the "Christian's" ceaseless war, 

Knows thy labors for his race, 

On the Cattaraugus stream, 
And where on his dusky face 

Omaha's broad prairies gleam. 

All around thee thou dost love, 

Sea and sky and grassy sod ; 
Earth below, and heaven above, 

Raise thy heart to Nature's God. 

Fitly on thy natal day, 

Here we place this token slight ; 
Clouds and stars and sunny ray, 

Meet thy unobstructed sight. 

Gently may the breezes blow, 

On thy cheek upon this hill ; 
May thy steps, though weak and slow, 

Long to it be guided still. 

When thy Father calls thee home, 

Gives thy tired spirit re?t, 
Thy children, wheresoe'er they roam, 

Will seek this spot and call it blest. 

Mother's love we here will know, 

And thy precepts learn anew, 
Stronger to our tasks will go. 

After musing here with you. 



This walk soon seemed too far for his strength, and 
the observatory was removed to a point in the lawn at 
the foot of the hill, where his beloved form would often- 
times be seen, watching the clouds, which were an unend- 
ing source of pleasure to him, and studying the meteor- 
ological aspects of the sky. 

A great source of pleasure to' him for some years 
had been the love and correspondence between the " three 
Benjamins/' viz., Benjamin P. Moore of Fallston, Mary- 
land, Benjamin Rodman of Xew Bedford, Massachusetts, 
and himself. They were nearly of the same age, Ben- 
jamin P. Moore having been seventy-seven years old, 
Benjamin Rodman seventy-four years, and he sixty-nine 
years, when the correspondence began. Benjamin Bod- 
man was a schoolmate and friend of Benjamin P. Moore's, 
and through the latter became interested in and opened a 
correspondence with Benjamin Hallowell, which continued 
with unabating vivacity and interest until death. 

In the fill of 1872 the three met in Baltimore ; 
Benjamin Rodman and Benjamin Hallowell being mutu- 
ally pleased on coming " face to face." The former f with 
his daughter Susan) made a visit to us at Rockland, 
shortly after this interview, the memory of which helped 
to gild the declining days of both. 

In 1875 Benjamin P. Moore passed awav, in his 
eighty-fourth year, and in the spring of 1877 Benjamin 
Rodman followed, aged eighty-three years, and father felt 
that those of his generation were nearly all assembled 
on the " other shore." He still kept cheerful, but happily 
as he often said he was situated as regards this life, he 
longed for the summons that would reunite him to the 
many that had preceded him, when it should be his 
Father's pleasure to call him. 



In the fall of 1876, though very weak, he expressed . 
a desire to visit Baltimore Yearly Meeting, to see once 
more his almost life-long friend Lydia Jefferis (then her- 
self very feeble, and who survived him only a few weeks), 
and some few other friends. He accomplished the un- 
dertaking with comparative comfort, remaining one night. 
His heart was overflowing with love for the whole 
human race, even the driver of the carriage that took 
us to the depot receiving his hand and cordial "farewell." 

He had long been a sufferer from a chronic disease, 
and few can ever know the agony endured at times 
during the latter years of his life. On his memorable 
journey to Iowa in his own carriage, in 1863, he " shed 
tears and blood in every State from Maryland to the 
Mississippi." Many times when his intellect seemed 
brightest, and his conversation most interesting, he would 
be suffering pangs almost unendurable. He had frequent 
attacks which would confine him to bed for days and 
weeks, but his wonderful physical powers triumphed 
again and again over the severity of his disease. 
Strange as it may seem, these spells of sickness were 
periods of deep interest to his attendant and himself. 
He was so tender and affectionate, so desirous of giving 
as little trouble as possible, so cheerful, animated, and 
altogether lovely, that the writer even now at times 
longs inexpressibly for those sweet though sad days. He 
held that the mind could overcome physical pain, and 
some of his most interesting conversation was during 
the intervals between his spells of suffering. 

He had been so long an invalid, and so often, as 
he thought, near his close, that while we noticed his de- 
clining strength, we 4 did not realize that we were at last 




to lose him, although he himself often remarked that he 
was "running down hill rapidly." 

During the spring and summer of 1877, he grew 
perceptibly weaker, and had scarcely any appetite. The 
faithful Bridget tempted him with everything her inge- 
nuity could devise, and his daughter and daughter-in-law 
suggested various modifications of his diet, with very little 

His nephew, James S. Hallowell, would often call on 
his return from Washington, bringing early fruits, vege- 
tables, fish, or other delicacies, that he hoped would be 
enjoyed, and for which kind attentions he always re- 
ceived grateful acknowledgments. 

In the spring of 1877, he was very much gratified 
by a visit from his old and loved student Edward C. 
Turner of Fauquier county, Virginia, who came with 
William Williams of Loudoun expressly to see him once 
again. Edward had been a great favorite with him and 
with our mother, and was one of those who had helped 
bear to their graves the two sons, James and Charles, 
that they had lost from scarlet fever within a week of 
each other, in 1831. 

He was always associated in their minds with these 
precious children. All were interested in the visit, and 
in the renewal of the love of the old Alexandria days. 

Every alternate Sixth-day. when nothing occurred 
to prevent, his brother-in-law, William Henry Farquhar, 
came to take tea with him, and to talk over such sub- 
jects of scientific, literary, or religious interest as had at- 
tracted their attention during the intervening time. 
These occasions were always looked forward to with 
pleasure, and were much enjoyed. ♦ 

During the last year of hi- life he found much to 



interest him in his visits to Norwood, the home of Joseph 
T. and Anna L. Moore, with whom Patience Leggett 
resided. It was at a pleasant distance to ride, and Pa- 
tience and her daughter Anna were always glad to see 
him. Much was talked of that afforded him gratifica- 
tion at the time, and gave him occupation afterwards, 
in copying poetry and other things that had been under 
discussion. His children will always remember with 
gratitude the many delicate and kind attentions bestowed 
upon him so long and so constantly by the Norwood 

His interest in his country, and in the advance of 
freedom in all things, grew and strengthened with ad- 
vancing years. He had much interesting correspondence 
with friends of liberty and humanity, and his mind and 
heart expanded with length of days, so that it was re- 
marked to the writer, on one occasion, by a distant ad- 
miring friend, that "Benjamin Hallowell had taught 
him that one need not necessarily grow conservative 
and despondent while growing old." 

During the summer his weakness increased, and he 
found great difficulty in conversing long at a time. 

On the 2d of Eighth month he was very much 
interested in the erection of a new pole, sixty-two feet 
high, for his weather vane, the old one not having been 
sufficiently tall to be unaffected by the surrounding 
trees. His son Benjamin, wh o , with his wife Lydia T., 
and daughter Margaret, were making their summer 
visit to Rockland, undertook the superintendence. 

Father enjoyed it for a brief period, pleasantly asso- 
ciating his absent son with it when looking out, as he 
so often did, to watch the changes of the weather. 

On the 9th the writer took him to see Eliza Kirk, 



at Woodburn, who, with her daughter, Mary B. Kirk, was 
much beloved by him. We also called at Stanmore, 
but he found the exertion much more fatiguing than usual. 

On the 10th his granddaughter Mary took him for 
what proved to be his last visit. They stopped at 
Stanmore, where his daughter Caroline was distressed 
to see how weak and poorly he appeared to be. 

They then went to Xorwood, making: a brief call, 
his strength scarcely holding out until his return. He 
went to bed on reaching home, and his last sickness may 
be said to date from that time. He suffered extremely, 
some days not getting up, but on others trying to 
come down a little while if possible, for the sake of 
the change. During this time he had a most touching 
and memorable visit from a former beloved pupil, Man- 
ning F. Force. Manning had been five years at his 
school in Alexandria, entering very young, and after 
graduating at Harvard, had studied law, settled in Cin- 
cinnati, and become prominent as a lawyer, a general 
m the Union army, and as a judge, yet he was still 
only " Manning," and father was " Benjamin." 

We received a note saying he was in Washington, 
and would come out and dine with us on the 27th. 
The visit was looked forward to by the dear invalid 
with deep interest. 

It gave a pleasurable excitement to the daily dress- 
ing and preparation for coming down stairs. He wore 
a white vest, because "Manning always saw him with 
one on when lecturing." He put on his " best clothes," 
had his spectacles in the breast pocket of his waistcoat, 
and everything as nearly like " old times " as possible. 
Weak and wasted as he was, he straightened himself to 
his full height when " Manning " entered, gave him the 



warm grasp and kindly greeting as of yore, and was 
indeed " every inch a man." 

He could only remain with him half an hour, and 
returned to his bed. On saying farewell, he looked 
Manning in the face, and with a voice tremulous with 
affection, asked him " if he could give an old man a 
kiss?" We felt that it w T as a parting for eternity. 

For a few days he came down stairs, both in the 
morning and afternoon, and would walk a little in front 
of the house, leaning a hand upon the shoulder of one 
of the grandchildren, whom he called his " other cane." 

On the 3d of Ninth month the writer took him 
for a short rid^, going a little beyond the front gate and 
around the outbuildings, " to see how things looked," 
and we had strong hopes that, as on other occasions, he 
would now get comparatively well. During the night, 
however, he was worse, and had a most distressing time. 
Dr. Wm. E. Magruder gave him all the relief possible, 
with the tender affection of a son ; and his son-in-law, 
Francis Miller, spent the night of the 5th assisting 
Dr. Magruder in attending upon him. 

The passage from life was to him mentally but a pleas- 
ant journey to home and friends, and he made all his pre- 
parations with business-like precision and cheerfulness. 

He gave his oldest son, who had been his constant 
companion and attendant, excepting at night, full direc- 
tions as to all things, as they occurred to his mind. He 
had at different times been his own executor, and had 
distributed various mementoes and gifts to his children, 
grandchildren, and friends, including his dear daughter- 
in-law, Anna T. Hallo well, of Philadelphia, and her 
children, and William S. Brooke, his daughter Mary's 
husband, and their two children. 


On the 5th, however, scarcely thirty-six hours before 
his close, he remembered several little things he wished 
given to different individuals, and particularly to his 
grandsons, Frank and Robert, who had been attentive to 
him during his sickness, the former at night and the 
latter during the day, especially in assisting him to 
shave the last time, only a few days before his death. 
Having decided upon two mementoes, he asked his son 
to write a few lines for him, which he heard read, and 
then attached his well-known signature to each, with 
the little familiar nourish, it being the last time the dear 
hand traced that name, which had been so often written 
during a long, weary, yet most useful life. 

All through the day of the 6th, we knew he was 
dying ; still he retained his intellectual brightness, for 
which he expressed himself grateful. On Francis Miller's 
entering the room, he stretched out his hand and shook 
hands with him as usual. 

Much as he was suffering, he begged us not to ad- 
minister anodynes, or to try longer to give him relief, 
but to " let him die in peace." 

About 3 p. m. his sufferings began to diminish, and 
he became gradually unconscious. He had remarked 
while suffering most, that he would not u turn his 
hand over to have it less," as it was all in accordance 
with fixed laws, and u must be right." He also said, 
" Dear children ! I would rather see you smiling than 
weeping! All is so bright — so glorious before me! My 
Heavenly Father is near me, — in this very room, — and 
He has promised me that He will never desert me if I 
am only faith ful, and that I will try bard to be!" 

His daughter Caroline. Dr. William E. Magruder, his 
daughter - in - law Sarah M. Hallowell, his much-loved 



namesake Benjamin H. Miller (whom we sent for to 
watch with us that last night), and his son Henry, were 
in the room with him. Not long before his close, in a 
faint voice he asked us to kiss him, feebly motioning 
with his lips. Soon afterwards, and very near the 
end, he opened his eyes wide, and they seemed filled 
with a mysterious depth and reverential awe, as he 
gazed fixedly at something unseen by us ; then a glory, 
as of the new day that was dawning upon him, rested 
on his grand countenance, and with scarcely a struggle, 
on the morning of the 7th, at a quarter before four 
o'clock, his spirit took its flight, and he who had been 
so much to us, our pride and protector, and of latter 
years our beloved charge and care, lay calmly beautiful 
after his long, weary march through life, during which 
he had battled bravely for truth and right, and had 
suffered almost a martyr's death, the disease having been 
aggravated by his devotion to what he believed to be 
his duty. 

As teacher, lecturer, philanthropist, and Friend, he 
had filled a wide sphere of usefulness, had earned his 
long -desired rest, and attained the victor's crown, 

His son-in-law, Francis Miller, Dr. Wm. E. Magru- 
der, Benjamin H. Miller, and the writer, prepared him 
for his final sleep. Many of his friends had called 
during his sickness, and now again came to offer their 
services and to express their sympathy. Mary S. Lip- 
pincott, his only sister, and his playmate in childhood, 
came on the 8th to see his face once more. His son 
Benjamin and wife came also on the 8th. 

On the afternoon of First-day, the 9th of Ninth 
month, 1877, a most lovely and beautiful day, we car- 
ried him to the meeting-house at Sandy Spring, where 



was gathered a large and solemn assemblage of friends 
from far and near, many of whom looked for the last 
time on that countenance, majestic even in death. 

Appropriate and beautiful remarks were made by his 
sister, Mary S. Lippincott, Samuel Townsend, Rebecca 
Thomas, Hadassah J. Moore, and his most faithful friend 
and physician, Dr. Wm. E. Magruder. Then his oldest 
and only living daughter closed the lid of his last home, 
and we went out into the beautiful sunshine and laid 
him by his beloved wife, under the branches of a spread- 
ing tree. All was quiet, solemn, and lovely. Those 
who carried him to his grave were Henry Stabler 
of Roslyn, Richard T. Bentley, George E. Brooke, 
Mahlon Kirk, Robert R. Moore, and Charles Abert, 
all old and valued friends. 

These were the closing scenes in the life of our 
father. His autobiography seemed incomplete without 
some account of his latter days. 

Time, while it softens the severity of the loss, reveals 
more and more the grandeur of his character, the sin- 
gleness of purpose with which he endeavored to serve 
his Creator, and the wide influence he had exerted 
among his fellow -men. 

Letters, touching and earnest, and public notices far 
and near, indicated the hold he had upon the hearts of 
his former pupils and friends. 

The city of Alexandria, where he labored so long for 
the good of others, placed his likeness upon some of her 
bonds, and his views upon education are quoted as the 
highest authority. 

His example of unselfish devotion to the highest 
views of usefulness will long be felt. 



After our father's death many sympathizing letters were 
received, and the following have been selected as represent- 
ing the tone of almost reverential love that pervaded them 

From S. M. Janney. 

Lincoln, Va., 9th Mo. 8th, 1877. 
Dear Friend : — Thy card was received yesterday after- 
noon, bringing the mournful intelligence that thy dear father had 
been removed from the trials of time to the rewards of eter- 
nity. I regret that I cannot be with you to-morrow, to join you 
in the solemn duty of attending his remains to their last rest- 
ing place. 

My thoughts will be with you, and I trust that the 
consolations of the gospel of Christ will be granted to the near 
relatives and friends who mourn the departure of one so 
greatly beloved. 

I shall always cherish an affectionate remembrance of thy 
father, as having been one of my most valued friends, and his 
name will be registered among the wise and good. 

Thy cordial friend, 

Sam'l M. Janney. 

From Edward C. Turner. 
Montrose, Fauquier Co., Virginia, Sep. 11th, l 77. 
My Dear Henry : — The sad news of the death of yoar 
honored father had reached me before the receipt of your card, 
and I was on the eve of writing to you when it came. I was 



not surprised to hear of his death, as I saw plainly, when I 
visited him in May. that his time on earth could not be long. 

Xo day has passed since I was with him that I have not 
recurred to the delightful visit ; and now that he is gone, it is 
a source of real comfort to me that I made it. 

He knew that his time was near at hand, and seemed so 
happy in the prospect of rest and peace so soon to be enjoyed. 
He told me he was ready to go, but in no hurry, and that he 
intended to enjoy to the full all of life here that it might 
please his Master to give him. I shall never forget his sweet, 
gentle, affectionate talk to me. ''Give my love to thy wife and 
children, and tell them all that I love them for thy sake," etc., 
etc. ; and I have felt since I left him that the good I derived 
from hearing him talk, and the softening influence of his 
noble spirit, were worth the trouble of a dozen such trips. 
Few men have died leaving behind them better monuments of 
their disinterested usefulness, and no man whose memory is 
more cherished by those who knew him best. 

He has gone to his reward, and it makes me happy to 
think that we may meet him and know him intimately again 
on "the t)ther side." I know dear H., that my poor words 
can give you no comfort, but rest assured you have my sincere 

Sincerely yours, 

Edwaed C. Tubxeb. 

From F. E. Abbott. 

Bostox. Mass., Sept 13th, 1877. 
My Deab Sib : — I am indeed grieved to learn the sad 
news of the decease of my dear and venerable friend, your 
father. It is true I never saw him in the flesh ; but I have 
seen, and learned to love, the beautiful spirit that revealed 
itself in his letters. The name of Benjamin Hallo well will 
always be tenderly cherished by me, as that of one who 
extended to me his constant sympathy and aid in the objects 
of my highest aspiration. 



Truly, he was a saintly man, not alone in his " close,' ' 
but in his life ; for he testified of the Spirit, and the Spirit 
testified of him. 

With respectful and sincere sympathy I am, 

Most truly yours, 

F. E. Abbott. 

From Bishop Pinckney. 

Sept Uth, '77. 

My Dear Sir : — I do most deeply sympathize with you in 
your great sorrow, for, although your father had lived beyond 
the three score and ten, he was fresh in heart and fresh in 
mind, and was therefore able to contribute largely to the 
pleasures of the household. 

A father's smile possesses a fascination that few things else 
on earth possess. The withdrawal of it is like an eclipse on the 
soul. You have, however, bright memories to soothe you. He 
lived to illustrate the higher walks of life. As a mathematician 
he ranked among the foremost, while as an instructor of youth 
he had no superior. 

The urbanity of his manners and his sterling integrity won 
for him the admiration and respect of the whole community, 
while his active charities endeared him to the poor. 

These shadows admonish us that we have no continuing 
city here. They teach us that we must seek one to come. 

The images that are hung upon the walls of this earthly 
tabernacle are eloquent in speech. They exemplify the beau- 
tiful and the true, while they stimulate us to aim to secure a 
like nobility of soul. 

There is, I know, a sacredness in grief, on which a stran- 
ger should not intrude ; and yet there is, in the sympathy of 
the poorest, a something that saves it from intrusion. 


W. Pinckney. 



From Mary G. Moore. 

Mosswood, 9th Mo. 8th, '77. 

My Dear Friexd : — My heart feels the blank that has 
been made, — thy precious father, father and companion to thee 
as few fathers are to their sons, has passed to the higher 
life, and the void that is made I know something of, and 
I have sat with thee and his children in deep sympathy. 
Gradually you have been prepared for the separation, and I 
have imagined, judging from my own experience, that yon 
have almost rejoiced that the weary spirit had cast off the 
shackles of mortality. There can be such a feeling when 
the heart is lonely and bowed under the loss of sweet com- 
panionship. But what a rich inheritance is yours ! And it 
will be increasingly rich as you live over the past life of 
your beloved, venerable parent. All who came within his 
influence felt that they had gathered something of value 
from him ; and how unostentatiously he gave out his stores, 
whenever he saw it would give pleasure or would be useful. 
Truly the law of kindness dwelt in his heart ; and when I 
follow in thought fas I always do those I love) to the in- 
visible world, and feel that upon all speculations as to the 
unfolding and development of the material and spiritual 
world to those so interested in such subjects here, there 
must ever be a veil, till we too are unrobed of mortality, 
I turn to that which / do know for a certainty, that the 
loving heart that overflowed to all, is joined to the great 
Source of love. The more I contemplate thy dear fathers 
character, the more I am in admiration at his rare qualities. 

His attainments are known to the outside world, and 
his life of usefulness receives the acknowledgment of appre- 
ciation : but to those who were admitted to a closer intimacy, 
the admiration was constant of his benevolence of feeling. 
He interested himself even when engaged in the mental 
pursuits which so largely occupied him) in all classes. A 
large portion of those who shared his friendship, or upon 
whom he bestowed his attentiou. could not share with him 
the pleasures of science, or reach to the heights that he 
had attained. 



I am the richer for having known him and shared his friend- 
ship, and I feel that another of my closest ties of friendship 
is severed, though only for a time ; for at my age and with my 
infirmities, I feel that the time of abiding here cannot be long. 

I feel the loss, not only for myself, but I think of my 
husband's last and most intimate friend, gone too, to the 
same home, the home that awaits us all, if we too walk as 
he walked, in the fear and love of God. 

You have been blest in the past in no ordinary degree 
with the companionship of one of the greatest minds of the 
age ; but you have been blest in a higher degree with the ex- 
ample of great intellectual attainments, sanctified and devoted 
to the Giver of them all. 

May his mantle rest upon you, and the blessing of Him 
in whom he placed his trust be with you all, and be your 
stay and support through all, even to the end. 

Thy attached friend, 

Maey G. Mooee. 

From W. W. Corcoran. 

Washington, Sept 18th, 1877. 
Dear Sir : — I received, with deep regret, the intelligence 
of the death of your father, who deservedly held so high a 
place in the estimation of the public, and whose intellectual 
endowments and moral worth attracted my sincere regard. 
I regretted also that indisposition prevented me from attending 
his obsequies, and rendering this last sad tribute of respect to 
his memory. 

I avail myself of the present occasion to say that my 
valued friend, General Robert E. Lee (who had long known 
him), expressed to me, in most emphatic terms, his admira- 
tion of the pure and elevated character of your father. 

Accept the assurances of my sympathy in the loss you 
have sustained, and believe me 

Truly yours, 

W. W. Corcoran. 



From General Manning F. Force. 

Pomeroy, Ohio, Sept. 23d, 1877. 
My Dear Henry: — I have just learned of the death 
of your father, in looking over the mail that was kept for 
my return. 

How rejoiced I am that I had an opportunity of seeing 
him once more. It was a great privilege to be within his in- 
fluence. It is when he leaves us, and the void is perceived, 
that we feel sharply how much more character is worth than 
station, and how cheap aud vulgar is ambition for rank and 
office, compared with the purpose to do always that which is 
right. The great concourse that assembled to do honor to his 
memory, shows that reverence for virtue has not died out. 

Very truly yours, 

M. F. Force. 

From J. F. W. Ware, 

Swampsoott, Mass., 17th Oct., '77. 

My Dear Sir : — A short time since, I heard of the death 
of your honored father. I count it one of the privileges of 
life, that I knew him somewhat in my pleasant visitings to 
Sandy Spring, and that I had two or three letters from him. 

Descended myself from Friends, and having most of the 
warmest intimacies of my life in that Society, and sympathiz- 
ing in a good deal of their doctrine, I was the more drawn to a 
man whose character and personal bearing would of themselves 
have attracted me. The mingling of sweetness and strength 
with the mellowing serenity of years, the spirit enshrined in a 
tenement of so much dignity, and what is best in manly 
beauty, made him a sort of "beau ideal" of Christian man- 
liness, a portrait to hansc in my chamber of memories. 

I am sure, that while you will hardly mourn, you will 
greatly miss him, while you can only be grateful for so long 
a life and so priceless a legacy. 

Very truly yours, 

J. F. W. Ware, 



From Moncure D. Conway. 

Hamlet House, Hammersmith, 

London, England, October 22, '77. 

My Deas Mrs. Miller: — I have just heard of your 
beloved and revered father's death, and I cannot forbear 
writing you to say how deeply I feel this event. All sorrow 
at the death of such a man as Benjamin Hallowell is over- 
arched with a bow of hope. He remains so immortal in 
our grateful hearts, that we cannot think of his life as 
closed and ended ; he only rests from his labors as we knew 
them, and, where our own weak wisdom valued him so 
much, we cannot think the Great Wisdom will value him 
less, but much more ! 

I would like, on this soft October day, to be able to 
pluck that last white rose in my garden, and kneel and plant 
it on his grave. — emblem of his pure simplicity, the light 
that clothed him, the sweet fragrance of his beautiful life. 

After loag years of contact with sects and their dog- 
mas, I find that I have a creed, and it is written in such 
lives and hearts as your father's. The faith that can pro- 
duce such men is the faith for me. With one Benjamin 
Hallowell, I will outweigh all the theology ever written. 

I often think of you, and of our talks on great themes. 
Dear old Sandy. Spring — how I love it! I have over my 
table in a frame, sent from India, one leaf of the "Holy 
Bo tree" — the tree under which it is said Buddha sat down 
a prince and at last rose up "an enlightened teacher," five 
hundred years before Christ. As I look at the leaf, it 
seems to be transformed to many, — to an old grove, with 
Sandy Spring meeting-house in the center. There I sat 
down a Methodist preacher, and rose up with faith in the 
inward light. We must all have our own Bo tree before 
we can reverence that of another, and though I am not 
very " enlightened," I can see the light, and, as Paul says, 
"follow after." 

Heartily your friend, 

Moncure D. Conway. 



Extract of a Letter Received From Prof. Joseph 
Henry ix 1876. 

1 'It is one of the principal pleasures of my life to have 
the kind regard of men of the character of your esteemed 
father. He has done a good work in life, and the seeds he has 
sown in the minds of the youth of this region, "will germinate 
and bring forth fruit long after his departure from earth. 
Give him my affectionate regard." 

J. H. 


Among the many notices of his life and character that 
appeared in the journal* of the day, the following have 
been selected. 

From the Baltimore American. 

It is idle to speculate as to what the singularly 
gifted scholar who was yesterday laid to his rest in the 
Friends' burial ground at Sandy Spring might have 
been if he had chosen to become a leader rather than 
a teacher of men. His career might have been that of 
a great publicist or jurist, if his cultivated tastes had 
not led him to prefer " the cool, sequestered vale of 
life." His talents were of the highest order, and if 
they had been associated with even a moderate amount 
of ambition, his name might have been as conspicuous 
among statesmen as it is among mathematicians and 

But he will be remembered, not for what he might 
have been, but for what he really was. If he did 
not attain the highest place in the temple of fame, 
he certainly was the centre of a circle of devoted 



friends, that expanded with his ripening years. His 
large philanthropy took in the freedman and the Indian, 
and both will remember him as a wise benefactor. 
In the religious denomination to which he belonged 
(the Society of Friends), he exercised a commanding 

Elizabeth P. Peabody, in Friends' Intelligencer. 

I want to speak a word to somebody who knew the ven- 
erable Benjamin Hallowell, for I cannot keep perfect silence 
when he has jnst died — just been translated, rather; for 
such, death must have been to him, who was all life. 

I became acquainted with him first in 1851, when he was 
keeping school in Alexandria, and I called on him with a note 
from Elizabeth Foster, I think, to communicate to him an idea 
which I had received from a Polish friend about memorizing 
chronology in such a manner that it should really be an aid to 
the memory of history, instead of its being, as usual, a bur- 
den and extraneous. 

I cannot now remember the details of that conversa- 
tion, but I remember the impression I received of his 
extraordinary intelligence and personality. I never forgot 
him, and, as I found afterwards, he never forgot me ; and 
on my first putting into "Friends' Intelligencer" an article 
upon the identity of Froebel's and George Fox's method of 
proceeding from that point within, at which God and man 
meet, and living out from that, he wrote to me. and expressed 
his unity with the kindergarten method. 

In a year or two after (1871), when I was in Washington 
at the Bureau of Education, for a few months, to "answer ques- 
tions and to make explanations to those who had been inter- 
ested by my paper on kindergarten culture (which appeared 
in the report of the Commisioner of 1870), he sent a carriage 
from Sandy Spring to bring me there to talk to the people at 




the Lyceum on the subject, and at his request my article in 
the "Friends' Intelligencer" was inserted again, as I had 
revised it when I put it into the first series of the Kindergarten 

He was one among the several aged men who welcomed 
that effort of mine to introduce the subject of Froebel's reform 
to the thoughtful of this country. Since his death, I have 
been hunting for a long letter he wrote me about it ; and he 
subscribed for many copies, which he asked me to send to 
mothers in Montgomery county, Md., paying for them himself 
one year, thinking that they would afterwards keep up the 

Perhaps it will quicken many minds to know how 
Benjamin Hallo well felt on this subject, for I think every- 
body in the Society must believe that his was a foremost 
mind on educational subjects. In their mathematical cast 
of mind, Froebel and he were similar. They both felt that 
in mathematical truth the human and divine were purely 
at one; and both showed that the most tender and profound 
hearts were compatible with the keenest exercises of the 
pure intellect, and could obey the command in its fullness 
of loving the Lord with all the mind, as well as heart and 
might ; that the Christian communes with the Eternal Eeason, 
as well as the Infinite Love and Power. 

It is at this point, I think, the Quaker creed (for, though 
unwritten, they have one) somewhat fails. The followers 
of George Fox are not quite up to the high point of vision 
of Fox himself. Like all followers, they rest upon his tes- 
timony, instead of, like him, returning to first principles. 

But Benjamin Hallowell did not embody with the prin- 
ciples of George Fox the inevitable limitations of that day. 
He did not need to rest on the traditions of even the 
Saintly Fathers, because, like those Fathers, he held immediate 
communion with God. He was indeed the ideal Friend. 

I know Friends do not like the word Quaker, but it is 
consecrated to me by a few whom I have known of that 
denomination, who had no narrowness, and it seems to con- 
vey a certain characteristic. 



I feel as if they themselves did not realize in their 
imagination all that they are, that they give to others a 
greater ideal than they define to themselves. No body or bodies 
of people are conscious of what is best in them, but God 
knows and mankind profits by it. 

E. P. Peabody. 

Cambridge, Massachusetts. 

A. G. Kiddle, in New York Tribune. 

To the Editor of the Tribune : 

Sir: — Several years ago, when Benjamin Hallo well was 
only a name to me, I was a guest at a beautiful home 
Sandy Spring, the seat of the Montgomery Friends. My host, 
a prominent Marylander, was of the community, and I ac- 
companied him on Sunday to the Quaker meeting-house, an 
old structure of brick, in the margin of a primitive forest of 
considerable extent. Most of the congregation were in their 
places when we entered. I had hardly taken my seat when 
my attention was arrested by one of the most striking -looking 
men I have ever seen. Almost in front, facing me, on the 
raised platform against the Avail with the elders, sat a man of 
seventy, of just less than gigantic mould, with a grand, mas- 
sive head, scantily crowned with longish white hair, a lofty 
brow and noble features, bowed in reverential reverie, with 
closed eyes, with his shoulders almost above the heads of the 
men about him. I was not familiar with the leading names 
of the Friends, but knew I was looking at an extraordinary 
man. I glanced from him over the silent assembly of serene, 
silent men and women, and back at the noble form before me, 
in moulding which nature had reverted to the great primitive 
type, which she now so rarely produces. The spirit and pres- 
ence of the silent worship stole upon me. 

It was a June morning, and the notes of the thrushes and 
robins came to me from the surrounding forest. Suddenly, 



little twittering sounds, like the first notes of a bird's song, 
fell on my ear, and I turned just as the form I so admired 
was rising. He rested his trembling hands on the back of the 
seat before him, with a little stoop in his shoulders, and a bend- 
ing of the head, revealing deep-set but very fine blue eyes. The 
voice was sweet, tender, and flute-like, a little monotonous, but 
could never have wearied. The sermon, if such it might be 
called, was a sort of lofty and beautiful chant. It was an ex- 
pression of the depth, purity, and peace of that holiness of 
heart and life to which man may attain, and its outer mani- 
festation of love, benevolence, and widest charity. The lan- 
guage was nervous, happily chosen, simple and pure, and be- 
yond the power of the mere rhetorician. The matter was so 
arranged that its clear statement was a great and beautiful 
argument, while a trill of the voice rendered it touching. 

The delivery of this rare homily may have occupied 
fifteen minutes. 

As the preacher was sitting down, another train of 
thought opened to him, when, with the same little murmur, 
he arose to his full height, and spoke perhaps five minutes 
longer — not in continuance of the first "discourse, but of a 
germane topic, which illustrated and supplemented it. He 
sat down, observed a moment's silence, turned and shook 
hands with the man next to him, — a signal that the service 
had closed. 

That was Benjamin Hallowell. As he passed out, men 
and boys, matrons and maidens, gathered about him, followed 
him to his carriage, and did not part with him till he drove 
away. He was of them, lived their daily life, went in and 
out before them, ministering, beautifying, and elevating their 
lives ; helping to improve and adorn their homes and for- 
tunes, lighting and conducting them along the upper paths 
of virtue, culture, and beneficence ; yet so natural and com- 
mon, that, in a way, they lost the power of appreciating 
the more striking of his remarkable qualities and powers. 

I came to know him well all these years since I first 
saw him. He was a man rarely endowed, and doubtless, in 
his philosophy of life, he secured as much of real value 



from the world as it is capable of yielding. Nature had 
given him most of the striking qualities of intellect, will 
power, and the rudiments of the strongest human passions, 
and clothed them with a form of dignity, beauty, and grace. 
Seemingly he had hut to choose his career, and will his own 
fortune. Among his gifts the religious element was large, and 
this, with his early training and surroundings, determined his 
course. In history there was but one model. The spirit of 
Mary's Son he made his own. It restrained his ambition, 
opened his pathway, enlightened his studies, formed his man- 
ners, and informed his life. Politics and the government of 
the nation, all great enterprises, were very much to him, and 
he kept well informed of them. The unfolding and fashioning 
of the minds, the frame and structure of the character of the 
chosen young men of the land, were to him much more. To 
that he dedicated himself with a elevotion anel unreserve which 
marked his appreciation of its importance. No youth was ever 
under his care who did not carry with him through life some- 
thing of the bent anel bias imparted by his hand ; as none 
approached him without reverence or left him without love. 

His work was that which lay nearest his hand. Emphati- 
cally, he loved his neighbor. His neighborhood was the 
universe, and all living things were the objects of his care. As 
his manners were the manifestation of his heart and spirit, he 
was naturally the most graceful and polished of cultured mem 
The servants, the coachman who drove him to the railroad 
station, always remembered his consideration for them. If a 
man may apply the term 'Movable" to a man, that was 
eminently his due. Nothing bearing life ever came under his 
care, that did not love him as it was capable. It was beau- 
tiful to see him break from a clinging group of lads anel 
maielens, and hear him say, "Farewell, now, I must go to my 
Margaret," towarel whom he manifested the same ardor of love 
and tender observance at seventy-five as in the first days of 
wedded bliss. 

If his life was lovely beyond usual, his last illness and 
death were beautiful and touching beyond earth. His Margaret 
passed away nearly two years belore his exit, and it was a sore 



trial of his faith that he must remain longer. That the example 
of his life might lack no perfection, that illness was a protracted 
bodily torture, gradually growing more intense, till the sources 
of life were exhausted : yet, such were the strength and forti- 
tude of the spirit, that all was endured with a serene smile, 
calling forth assurances of the mercy and goodness of God. 
Sometimes when the anguish Was at its greatest, he said to his 
attendant, "Thee must allow me to groan a little." He re- 
fused anodynes and anaesthetics, saying, "if permitted, he 
would retain his faculties unclouded." He wished to note the 
shades of on-coming death, which were also to he the opening 
dawn of immortality. Such an intellect could never be shat- 
tered. Once it seemed to wander, making a luminous track. 

As if his sufferings might disquiet the faith of a favorite 
daughter, in the mercy of Providence, with clearness aud en- 
ergy he demonstrated two or three mathematical problems ; 
concluding with, "So thee sees, daughter, that it is all clear 
and right." His method of clarifying and refreshing his mind, 
even in this illness, was by the solution of a problem. As the 
end approached, the glow of the perfect faith became a luminous 
nimbus, on the almost transfigured countenance — instances of 
which many have read of, but few ever witnessed. His last 
words were assurances that the way was clear, the light broad 
and steady, and the glory serene. 

A. G. Riddle. 

Washington, Sept, 1877. 



Memorial of Sandy Spring Monthly Meeting of 
Friends, concerning Benjamin Hallowell. 

Benjamin Hallowell, an approved minister, was born 
the 17th of the Eighth month, 1799, at Abington, in Mont- 
gomery county, State of Pennsylvania, and died at his 
late residence, near Sandy Spring, in Montgomery county, 
Maryland, of which meeting he had been a consistent 
and useful member many years. When such a character 
has been "called away to be seen of men no more/' we 
think it due to his surviving friends and to future gen- 
erations to commemorate such a portion of his valuable 
life as might give them encouragement and a stimulus 
to go forward in their travel over the rough places in 
the journey of life. 

In all his transactions this dear friend endeavored, 
through the spirit of love and trust and obedience, , to 
make the Divine harmony his rule of self-government — 
entitling him to the fulfilment of the Scriptural prom- 
ise, " He that overcometh shall inherit all things, and I 
will be his God, and he shall be my son, and shall 
have a right to the tree of life which is in the midst 
of the paradise of God." He devoted a considerable 
share of the unusual energy and capacity with which 
he was gifted to the advancement of true science, and 
he was enabled to contribute largely to its diffusion, 
though he never sacrificed any of the least of his moral 
or religious duties to its cultivation, but made them 
his chief concern. It does not seem requisite that we 



should here expatiate on his scientific or literary 
pursuits ; his labors in that field have indelibly written 
their own memorial, which has long been before the 
world, showing conclusively how science and religion 
may be blended without a clash. The most prominent 
features in this noble character were his humility, self- 
denial, and willingness to labor in the cause of hu- 
manity, righteousness, and truth : and while he occupied 
such an eminent position in the world of mind and 
culture, no class of people were too lowly to escape 
his warm greeting and sympathy when brought in 
contact with him ; and it was always his effort, in 
his intercourse with others, especially those of youthful 
age, to give an instructive turn to the conversation, and 
it was noticeable that these sought his companionship 
as though he were coeval with themselves ; and rarely 
did any associate with him. we believe, who did not 
receive a blessing from the overflow of his genial spirit, 
that would go with them even beyond this period of 

Volumes might be written of his deeds of love, 
charity, and benevolence, to which there are living testi- 
monials ; but we will not attempt that theme. His 
countenance seemed to be continually illuminated with 
that kind of peace and benignity that has fully realized 
the Fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man ; 
and in striking emulation of his Divine Master, when 
he was reviled, he chose rather to sutfer affliction for a 
season than to revile again. But on some occasions, 
when these encounters would be too acrimonious, and his 
failing earthly tabernacle would give way, he immediately 
Bought repentance, even in tears, and was soon ready in 
the .meekness of a little child to make tiny necessary 



concession or reparation for the vindication of right- 
eousness and truth. 

Exemplary in all the relations of life, he was never 
wholly satisfied unless something of a practical benefit 
was kept in view. His exhortations were mainly directed 
to impress this great object of existence, and his own 
life was a continued illustration of the doctrine he 

When disease came upon him in his latter years, in 
a most painful form, he was enabled to prove the sus- 
taining power of these life -long principles by wonderful 
resignation under the severest suffering. These seasons of 
protracted agony were often periods of deep interest to 
his attendants and himself. One of them writes that 
"he was throughout tender and affectionate, desirous of 
giving as little trouble as possible, cheerful, animated, 
and full of love. At length his powerful constitution 
gave way under attacks of disease continually repeated, 
and when it was evident that he was dying, his son and 
daughter manifesting their grief by tears, he said, 'My 
children, I would so much rather see you smiling. My 
way is all clear ; it is all so bright, beautiful, glorious.' 
Feebly moving his thin hand, he added, ' I would not 
turn my hand to remove a single throb of pain ; it is 
the will of the Heavenly Father, and His will is right. 
He is so near — He is in this rcom ; He will never for- 
sake me while I keep right, and I will try so hard to 
keep right/ " Xot long before his close he opened wide 
his eyes, which seemed filled with a mysterious depth, a 
radiance and reverential awe, gazing fixedly on some- 
thing not visible to his attendants, and without a strug- 
gle his spirit took its flight; and thus finished his 
earthly course with the anthem of praise on his dying 



lips, on the 7th of the ]S~inth month, 1877, in the 79th 
year of his age. 

Eead in and approved by Sandy Spring Monthly 
Meeting of Friends, held Ninth month 4th, 1878. 

Read in and approved by Baltimore Quarterly Meet- 
ing, held at Gunpowder, Ninth month 9th, 1878. 

Thomas H. Matthews, Clerk. 
Elizabeth G. Thomas, Clerk for the day. 

Read in and approved by Baltimore Yearly Meeting, 
Tenth month 31st, 1878. 

Our work is finished. In his Autobiography and 
the extracts from his writings, our beloved father has 
himself told the story of his life. 

Allowing for the infirmities inseparable from hu- 
manity, we may truly say, "Mark the rjerfect man, and 
behold the upright ; for the end of that man is peace.'' 

]S"ote. — Probably no visit ever afforded our father more pleasure 
than one made him in after years in Alexandria by John Gum- 
mere and his wife. They were much gratified to see the comfort- 
able and commodious buildings, the large collection of apparatus, 
and all the appliances of a first-class school, having over one hun- 
dred scholars. Father always attributed much of his success to the 
influence and training of John Gummere, and during this visit 
spared no pains to show his appreciation. He took them to Mount 
Vernon, to Washington, introduced them to President Tyler and 
some of his Cabinet, and to other persons of prominence, as well as 
to his friends in Alexandria. — Eds. 



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